


Still The One

by lincoln4460



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch fanfiction - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 73,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincoln4460/pseuds/lincoln4460
Summary: Sequel to 'Photograph'.  Follow Ben and Cara as they navigate their kooky way through married life and the pressures brought to it by family, careers, the paparazzi and people from their past.





	1. You Know What They Say About Eavesdroppers

Present day

Ben was talking on the phone when I entered our hotel room, his back to me as he leaned against the glass and looked out over the LA skyline. He didn't turn as I came in so I assumed he either hadn't heard me or didn't want to be disturbed, and inched as quietly as I could towards the couch.

"No, that doesn't help," he was saying, messing his hair as his hand ran through it. "She deserves it, of course, but it's still a bit galling to sit there a loser on a show telecast to millions while the very first time my wife works on a movie, she wins an award I've been working towards for years."

I came to an abrupt halt, my heart sinking at words I was obviously not meant to overhear. Feeling rather sick, I cautiously retraced my steps, wanting nothing more than to get away. It's not easy to move with stealth when you're carrying an extra twenty five pounds of weight but luckily Ben seemed so engrossed in his conversation that he didn't hear me and I made it out of the room without a hitch, closing the heavy door incredibly slowly to minimise noise. Moving in something of a daze, I made my way down to the lobby, not really certain of my next move. I felt in desperate need of either coffee or alcohol, despite it only being mid morning, but couldn't touch either, so opted instead to find the nearest juice bar and nurse a mango pineapple smoothie.

Last night at the Oscars I had won for Best Original Song but sadly, Ben had lost the Best Actor in a Leading Role award to Leonardo di Caprio – what can I say? Obviously 2016 is Leo's year. While he'd assured me he was honoured just to be nominated, Ben hadn't wanted to attend any of the after parties – which suited me fine, as I was tired from the multitude of interviews after the awards show and couldn't drink even celebratory champagne anyway – and we'd come straight back to the hotel. Now it appeared the loss may have meant more to him than he'd let on – and my win was making him – what? Jealous? Angry? Wishing, not for the first time, that my hormonally overloaded brain was functioning more efficiently, I tossed the possibilities around, becoming more confused by the minute.

Fifteen months earlier

"Frau Cara, es ist ein gentleman wishing to speak mit you; er ist in der Bar."

Surprised that someone would be here so late – I'd just come from a gig and it was nearing midnight – I looked towards the bar area but couldn't make out bodies or faces. "Not a reporter, Franz?"

"Nein, nein, Frau Cara. Er ist Herr Spielberg."

What? No, that can't be right; it must just be someone who looks like him and Franz is confused – there's no way Steven Spielberg would be in this hotel in Berlin in the middle of the night looking for me. Ludicrous! Franz must be nearing the end of his shift. Thanking him, I wandered into the bar, ordered a lemon, lime and bitters and looked surreptitiously around; as I did so a man at a nearby table stood, looking directly at me and smiling.

Holy fuck.

Okay, either that really is Steven Spielberg or the best damn doppelgänger I have ever seen.

"Cara de Luca?" The doppelgänger asked in a soft American voice, still smiling.

I nodded, feeling rather like a stunned mullet. Well, what I imagined a mullet would feel like if it had been stunned. Or if it had feelings, come to that. Do fish actually have feelings? I kind of hoped they didn't, really, given how we suffocated them then ate them...

"Steven Spielberg," the man said, now taking a step towards me and holding out his hand. I put mine in his and wriggled my jaw, wanting to make sure it hadn't dropped to floor level.

"Cara de Luca," I said breathlessly. Shit, he already knows that. We shook and he invited me to join him as the barman handed over my drink. He took it for me – holy fuck! Steven freakin' Spielberg! – and once I was seated, put it down on a coaster in front of me.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you out of the blue like this, but I was in Dresden when my assistant let me know you were here so I jumped on a plane."

Say something Cara. Say something!

"I...I'm...delighted to meet you." Okay, good start - don't fuck it up now. And watch your language! "Why am I meeting you?" Yeah, nothing like getting right to the point. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm just a bit...stunned." Don't tell him about the mullet, don't tell him..."Are you sure you're not looking for Ben?" Thank God! You didn't tell him.

He smiled again – he has a nice smile, I thought – and shook his head. "I'll be talking with Benedict at a later point, but right now I wanted to talk to you; I'm hoping you'll be interested in being involved with a new project of mine."

I listened as he told me of a movie he was about to make, an action epic reminiscent of Ludlum and le Carré that was a departure from his usual style. Some of this I had already heard from Ben, who had auditioned, I knew, for the yet-to-be-announced lead role. At the end of his description he added simply, "I'd like you to write and perform the theme song for the movie."

"Mr Spielberg..."

"Call me Steven, please," he interrupted.

"Steven..." Holy crap. "I've never done...I've only ever written songs for myself, not...not for a movie. I...I wouldn't even know how to go about it."

Then he told me his other idea – that I come to the studio, the locations, whatever it took, to see the storyboard, view the actors as they filmed, talk to writers and watch the movie unfold so I could immerse myself in it and get a real feel for the plot – all of this so my song would be a faithful reflection of the feelings he wanted to engender.

"Holy fuck." Oh shit, I said that out loud! "Oh God, I'm sorry, I..."

Steven forestalled my apology with a laugh and wave of his hand. "Please, don't worry – it's not like I haven't heard or said worse." Yeah, well... "So Cara, how do you feel about my proposal? Are you interested?"

"Still stunned, to be honest, but also...excited, energised, thrilled, anxious, terrified and nauseous." We both laughed. "But...it sounds absolutely amazing and I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world." Say what now? Did I just agree to do this? HOLY FUCK!

"Fantastic, I'm so glad and I look forward to working with you. I'll have my producer be in touch to arrange dates and other details."

We chatted for a short time after that but when I began yawning Steven apologised for keeping me up and took his leave. A month later he rang Ben and offered him the lead role.

Present day

My musings were interrupted by a text from Ben asking if I was all right, making me realise how long I'd been gone. I replied I was on my way and walked back to the hotel, trying to decide whether or not I should let Ben know I had heard his conversation or wait and let him bring up the topic on his own. We were flying to different destinations tonight – he to South Carolina for filming and me to Calgary to re-join a tour - and wouldn't see each other for almost another month; what if he doesn't mention it today and I'm left to stew on it for that long?

Dammit, Cumbers!


	2. A State of Unrest

One day earlier

Some days I feel like I'm the Queen Mary. The ship, I mean, not the actual monarch, because, you know, she died a long time ago. Or perhaps I'm more like the Titanic – pre-iceberg, naturally. Something huge anyway, especially when I turn to look at myself side on. A lot of people have told me it's because I'm 'carrying the baby out in front', whatever that's supposed to mean. Are there people who carry their babies in their backs? I mean, come on, what kind of strange thing is that to say? Anyway, what those people don't know, because we haven't made it public yet – and by public I mean that our families and close friends know, but not the general masses – is that the reason I'm so darned humungous is because we're expecting twins.

Twins. Oh God. Two little Bens or Caras, or more likely one of each I'm told, as they're fraternal twins and not identical. Some days I sit for hours in a daydream wondering what they're going to be like. Will they have his gorgeous eyes or my brown ones? Have riotous curls or straight hair that hangs in a thick curtain? Be tall or moderately average height? I hope if there's any boys they get his...oh, okay, never mind – that's probably a touch R-rated for the middle of the day.

"Darling, you look beautiful."

"No I don't, I look like the Goodyear Blimp." In spite of only being twenty weeks pregnant I look more because of this huge bump I'm carting around. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure they're going to inherit his height genes. Yes! Thank you, Lord.

Strong, warm arms fold around me from behind, hands coming to rest protectively over my stomach, and lips press soft kisses to my neck. I move my head a little to give him greater access. "You most definitely do not look like the Goodyear Blimp. You grow more gorgeous every single day and you're an exquisitely beautiful, sexy woman whom I happen to love very much."

Well, shit, how is it he always knows the perfect thing to say? I lumber in a one eighty degree turn and reach out to straighten his bow tie before running my hands down the edging of his lapels and pulling him a little closer so I can kiss him. "Do you really think so?" I ask, my fingertips brushing lightly over the neatly trimmed beard he's grown for the movie he's currently filming. "If we weren't leaving in five minutes, you'd throw me on the bed and ravish me right now?"

"In a heartbeat. I'd have you on the floor right here then twice on the bed, then I might consider letting you regain your energy before I had to have you again." He tugged me close as his lips trailed a path of sweet, tingling torture down my neck and across my collarbone, being careful not to dislodge my hair or earrings. A soft sigh escaped me as his hands ran up my arms to cup my face. "No more talk of blimps, my love, I won't allow it."

I pouted a little, knowing it encouraged him to kiss me more – which he did - but his words had definitely cheered me up and I gazed admiringly at the handsome figure he cut. His Tom Ford white tuxedo jacket sat over black trousers with a white shirt and black bow tie and in my opinion, he looked incredibly debonair and, well, hot. "Thank you darling," I murmured, just as his phone pinged with a message to tell us the car had arrived.

"Come on, Mrs Cumberbatch – are you ready to win your first Oscar?" He smiled at me and I smiled back, buoyed as ever by his love and faith in me

"I'm ready if you are, McHottybatch," I replied.

A brow lifted at me quizzically. "McHottybatch?" We left the hotel suite after making sure we had everything we needed with us.

"You don't like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it – just maybe don't call me that in your acceptance speech."

I laughed at the grin on his face. "Darling, you know very well you can expect almost anything to come out of my mouth when I'm excited and nervous."

"That's true," the deep rumble of his laughter filled the elevator as we rode down to the lobby.

"Should I be worried about what you might say in your acceptance speech?" I teased as the arm around my waist guided me to the waiting limousine.

"You probably should be," eyes twinkled as he handed me in, adjusting my dress while I got comfortable. Once he joined me inside and we set off, he continued, "Or perhaps worry more about what I don't say. If I'm fortunate enough to win, I'm likely to forget to thank a number of people, so I'll say it now in case the unthinkable happens and I don't mention you at all." My giggles caught in my throat at his next words. "Darling, thank you for loving and supporting me, for being so understanding and patient when I'm working long hours. I couldn't do it without you; you inspire me. I love you so much."

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I managed to murmur only, "Ben," before my lips found his and I forgot any thought of awards or speeches.

Present day

Ben was at the door as soon as he heard me swipe my keycard. "Darling, where have you been? I was getting worried that something had happened to you."

"I just...got side-tracked and stopped for a smoothie." I entered the room slowly, still not entirely sure how to react to him.

"But you're all right?" he took me in his arms and I felt guilty at the genuine concern I saw on his face. "All of you?"

"We're fine; I'm sorry to worry you."

Nuzzling my neck, he murmured, "As long as you're here now and okay, that's all that matters." God, he was being so sweet and attentive – maybe I imagined earlier? I've heard of pregnancy-induced nightmares – I wonder if they extend to hallucinations? And do they take place when you're only half way through the pregnancy? Can you Google this stuff? Maybe I should call my doctor tomorrow and ask?

My phone buzzed with an incoming message so Ben let me go and I looked to see Rick reporting he'd been fielding calls from 'tons of big names' as he put it, wanting to talk to me about writing and or recording songs, tours and shows.

"Is that Rick?" Ben asked, as if he were psychic. I nodded. "He's getting lots of interest after your win?"

"It seems so."

"That's wonderful, love."

This is it; the perfect opportunity to bring up the phone call and what he'd said, to talk through any negative thoughts or feelings. But, somehow, I was reluctant to raise the topic myself; I wanted him to be the one to initiate that particular conversation – after all, it was he who was having the apparent problem. And when he didn't say anything about it at all, I felt...

"Are you tired sweetheart? Do you want to have a rest before we have to leave for the airport?" Ben's large, warm hand ran through the hair I hadn't tied back yet then cupped my head as I leaned into it, needing the physical comfort.

"It would be nice to just relax together," I agreed. We both kicked our shoes off and lay down; Ben pulled the plum and gold brocade bedcover up over our legs as I snuggled into him, his arm under me keeping me close. But though my body relaxed against him and I watched demurely as he gently massaged my bump, thoughts were racing around inside my brain at twenty to the dozen and I was beginning to feel as if I were on a merry-go-round. So preoccupied was I that I almost didn't notice a fleeting, feather-light fluttering in my stomach; when it came again a minute later I gave a small gasp.

"What is it?" Ben was all concern again instantly.

"The babies," I whispered, moving his hand to the spot I'd felt the fluttering, though I knew it was too soon for him to be able to feel anything. "I felt the babies moving." Another flutter, briefer than the others, came in a different spot and I closed my eyes to imagine them rolling and tumbling around. Being fraternal twins they had separate placentas and would be no more alike than normal siblings born at different times.

"What does it feel like?" he asked, now moving his hand slowly over the bump and peering intently as if he thought he'd see movement.

"It feels like...a butterfly kiss," I told him.

"What's that?" Blue-green-gold eyes blinked at me in confusion.

"What? Hasn't anyone ever given you a butterfly kiss?" He shook his head, so I reached up to pull his face closer, turning him so I could flutter my eyelashes against his cheek in a soft, ticklish movement.

"Is that it?" he breathed, the wonder on his face causing a lump in my throat. "That's what you're feeling in here?" he looked back at my bump and I nodded, smiling. "Do it again?" I gave him another butterfly kiss and a smile so incandescent it could rival the sun broke across his face, melting my heart completely.

Oh hell, forget about what he said, Cara, and enjoy your husband's company while you can.


	3. Not For The Faint Hearted

Four months before

"Steven has said repeatedly that Moriarty is dead," I insisted, "so how can he come back? We saw him shoot a bullet through his head, for God's sake."

"I don't know how they're going to do it, but I'm sure he'll be back in the next season – didn't Andrew Scott say he was shooting season four?"

We'd been debating Sherlock's upcoming plot for some time as we waited backstage for show time. Marcus, as big a fan as me, was insisting the twisted psychopath Moriarty would be back, in spite of his suicide on the top of St Bart's Hospital roof in season three.

"That could just be flashbacks or Sherlock's mind palace," Callie suggested.

"Hasn't Benedict told you anything?" Marcus asked, looking and sounding sceptical at my lack of information.

"Not a thing," I assured him. There was a good reason for that – I had told him not to, knowing that if I knew what was going to happen the chances of me blurting it out in excitement were far too likely.

"Well, let's hope the Christmas special gives us some clues then," Callie sighed and I seconded that motion wholeheartedly – though knowing Steven and Mark, I wouldn't hold my breath.

I was still pinching myself that I was about to perform to a near-capacity crowd at the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh; we'd done smaller shows in Carlisle and Glasgow and tonight was our last in Scotland. Out of the blue Andy, one of the security crew, appeared at my side to tell me there was a gentleman asking to see me who had given the name Tom H. "You're kidding!" I couldn't believe my ears. "Where is he?" 

"Just outside." I followed him into the corridor to find a tall lean Brit lurking in the shadows – though not the one I would have preferred to be here, I was thrilled to see him nonetheless.

"Tom!" He opened his arms wide and I went in for a Hiddles hug, which, aside from Ben's and nonna's, was the best hug around. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town for a couple of days visiting my granddad and when I spoke to Ben earlier he told me you were performing tonight, so – here I am." He squeezed hard, a huge smile reaching his eyes. "You're looking gorgeous as always Cara."

"Thank you. You're not looking so bad yourself. Where on earth have you been to get that wonderful tan?"

He said he'd been filming in Australia. "But I don't want to hold you up – I just wanted to say hello - I need to go and find my seat before the show starts."

"You've got a ticket for the show?" I was astounded.

"Of course," he replied then showed it to me when I asked to see it.

"Good Lord, Tom, you're way out in the boondocks – hang on a minute and I'll arrange something better." I stepped back into the lounge and beckoned to Rick, all the while hearing Tom tell me he didn't want me to go to any bother and not to trouble on his behalf – which, of course, I completely ignored. After introducing Tom and Rick, I asked, "Rick, we can find a really good seat for Tom, can't we?"

"Of course," he replied, nodding in affirmation.

"And an all-areas pass?" That would allow him to join us again backstage later if he wanted to, without having to go through the rigmarole of asking security to get my permission. While Rick got on his phone to get that organised I was struck with a brilliant idea – well, it was brilliant in my mind, anyway. "Tom, how about singing a couple of songs with me tonight?"

"What?"

The more I thought about it, the more I was warming to the idea. "We can do a Hank Williams tune if you like, to promote the film, then something from...I don't know, how about Mumford and Sons?" I knew Tom liked their music.

"Cara, I don't know..."

"You've sung to a live audience before."

"Yes, but..."

"And you've sung with me before." We'd done a couple of tunes together at a karaoke bar once – with the help of some tequila shots.

"I know. However..."

"The audience will go ape shit," I so eloquently attempted to persuade him, "and it will be a lot of fun. Please, Tom...pretty pleeeeeeeease?" I was ready to start batting eyelashes if I had to. But Tom, being the big softy he is – and, let's face it, he's an actor so he's a bit of a show-off as well – caved and agreed, whereupon I whooped and jumped into his arms for another hug, laughing gleefully. We picked a couple of songs he knew and Rick promised to get him up on stage and find him a guitar, then I found a stagehand to show him to his seat and went back to prepare, apologising to the rest of the band for the last minute changes.

\---

Nonna always said 'horses sweat, men perspire and women glow' so two hours later I was sure I was glowing brightly enough to be seen from the moon. Either the stage lights were a lot hotter than usual or I was just ultra sensitive to them tonight. I took another swig from my water bottle, noting it was almost empty and hoping it would be replaced soon as I waited for the applause to die down.

"Thank you so much. Usually about now I would leave the stage then return for an encore after you've done some clapping and shouting, but tonight I'd much rather just stay here with you and do more songs without pretending that wasn't my plan all along. Is that okay?" Their enthusiastic response warmed my heart. "Terrific. But before I do that, I'd like to see a show of hands of how many of you enjoy surprises." A sea of hands appeared before me, some waving. "That's excellent, because I have a great surprise for you right now: a friend of mine is in the audience tonight and I've persuaded him to come up on stage with me and sing a couple of songs." I snuck a quick look at Rick, who indicated Tom was in the wings. "He's a little shy and retiring, so please give him a very warm welcome as he comes out...ladies and gentlemen, Mr Tom Hiddleston."

It took a few seconds for my words to sink in and for them to believe their eyes at the sight of Tom, long legs encased in snug black jeans and a leather jacket hugging his torso over a button-up shirt as he strolled nonchalantly past the band and backing singers and up to me. Someone had brought out another microphone and a guitar rested against it. Once they saw it was really him the crowd went ballistic and it took a long time for the noise to quieten down.

Once they saw it was really him the crowd went ballistic and it took a long time for the noise to quieten down

"Well Tom," I smiled at him, "I think the good people of Edinburgh are glad to see you."

"It's lovely to be here with you, Cara."

"I think they might like to hear you sing, yes?" There was a loud response from the audience and I laughed. "As I'm sure you're all aware, Tom has a film due out early next year in which he plays American country music legend Hank Williams, so we're going to do a song from that movie for you."

We both took up our guitars and positioned in front of mics; I turned to Marcus to count us in and we began Hey Good Lookin'. 

 

Said hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cooking somethin' up with me?

I say hey, sweet baby - don't you think maybe

We can find us a brand new recipe?

 

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two-dollar bill

And I know a spot right over the hill

There's soda pop and the dancing's free

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me

 

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cooking somethin' up with me?

 

I'm free and ready, so we can go steady.

How's about saving all your time for me?

No more lookin' - I know I been tooken

How's about keepin' steady company?

 

I'm gonna throw my date book over the fence

And buy me one for five or ten cents

I'll keep it till it's covered with age

Cause I'm writin' your name down on every page

 

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cooking somethin' up with me?

So how's about cooking somethin' up with me?

 

 

The crowd's response was phenomenal and carried me on a wave as I introduced I Will Wait, which we sang together. As we took our bows I felt unbearably hot so swallowed more water, fanning myself with my spare hand as I did.

"Cara, are you okay?" Tom sounded concerned.

"I'm fine, just hot from the lights," I replied, though I didn't actually think that was the entire reason. "We're doing Hold Back the River next; do you know it?" When he replied yes I told him, "Stay and do it with me." So he did, though he missed his cue for the second verse and laughed along with the audience when I teased him about it. Once the song was finished I got the audience to thank Tom again and he went offstage to thunderous applause while I got ready for my last song.

"My grandfather taught me to play the guitar when I was a little girl; I had a child sized one to begin with, of course, until he and my grandmother gave me my first full sized guitar when I was sixteen – this guitar right here. We've been through a lot together - especially in the last few years – anyway, a little while ago I wrote a song for my trusty friend and I'd like to sing it for you now."

 

This old guitar taught me to sing a love song,

It showed me how to laugh and how to cry.

It introduced me to some friends of mine and brightened up some days,

It helped me make it through some lonely nights.

Oh, what a friend to have on a cold and lonely night.

 

This old guitar gave me my friends, my loved ones; it opened up their eyes and ears to me.

It brought us close together and I guess it gave us hope.

It opened up a space for us to be,

What a lovely place and a lovely space to be.

 

This old guitar gave me my life, my living, and all the things you know I love to do:

To serenade the stars that shine from a sunny mountainside

And most of all, to sing my songs for you,

I love to sing my songs for you,

Yes I do, you know,

I love to sing my songs for you.

 

"Thank you; you've been an amazing audience and I've had a wonderful time; I hope you have too. Good night."

Thankfully the curtains had closed as I made my way towards the back of the stage, for suddenly a wave of nausea and dizziness flowed over me; I heard ringing in my ears and the next thing I knew everything went black.

\---

"Just stay still and quiet, I've called for a doctor." Rick's voice cautioned as I opened my eyes. I was being carried in someone's arms, presumably to the backstage lounge.

"I don't need a doctor," I assured him, though I still felt a little fuzzy.

"Cara, you fainted. Please do as he asks." It was Tom's arms I was in; he looked and sounded worried as he placed me gently on the sofa, as did all the others milling around.

"Rick, would you clear the room please?" I asked quietly. "Just you and Tom stay." He gave me a searching glance, which I returned with a confident one of my own. "I don't need a doctor because I know why I fainted. Please Rick."

All was quiet for the few minutes it took to get everyone out; Tom stayed at my side while Rick ushered and shooed, then he came back to where I'd managed to upright myself with Tom's reluctant assistance. As he pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of me he fixed me with a look I could see held uncertainty and concern. "If you're about to tell me you have some...awful disease...I..."

"No," shaking my head, I gave a little smile, "nothing like that." I looked at both of them. "You have to promise not to breathe a word of this – not a single, solitary syllable – especially you, Tom."

"Why...?"

"Because I haven't had the chance to tell Ben yet and I don't want him to hear it from anyone else – are we clear, Hiddles?" The mock stern look I gave Tom made his brows twitch and he fixed me with a steady, clear gaze as he gave his word. "I saw a doctor this morning," I began - only to have Rick run an agitated hand over his bare head as he swore loudly. "Rick – it's nothing bad, I promise, it's just...I'm pregnant."

I'd always wondered about the expression 'so quiet you could have heard a pin drop' but now I knew exactly how that sounded, for the two men were struck completely dumb by my revelation and I could almost swear I heard the second hand on my watch ticking faintly. I'd almost counted to ten by the time they showed any reaction other than blinking owlishly but finally they gave exactly the same response and it was like seeing both sides of a mirror; they grinned, grins so huge their faces must have hurt, and I found myself unable to resist grinning right back. Tom was the first to give a whoop and gather me in his arms, squeezing tightly before quickly letting me go and apologising – so typical Tom – in case he'd squeezed too hard and hurt me or the baby.

"Tom, you can't hurt it – it's smaller than my little finger at this stage."

Rick's hug was no less enthusiastic and I saw moisture in his eyes when he eventually let me go. "Cara...god, that's...shit, that's bloody fantastic news."

"Yes it is." I'd been hugging the news to myself since I'd seen the doctor that morning; I knew Ben would be absolutely thrilled and I couldn't wait to tell him. "But remember – not a word to anyone. I'm going to call Ben and tell him as soon as I get back to the hotel." After further assurances I was fine and that fainting was common in early pregnancy, along with promises to take extra care and let Rick know whenever I felt uncomfortable, he all but thrust me out the door of the theatre. As he was staying back to oversee our gear being packed up, Tom escorted me to my hotel and insisted on seeing me safely inside my room. There was light chatter as we rode the lift and I thanked him again for joining me on stage.

"I really enjoyed it," I told him.

"As did I," he replied. "It's quite different singing with someone else to being all on your own up there."

Agreeing, his words got me thinking that as much as I loved performing solo, I missed having a singing partner. Of course it took my mind back to when Jake and I performed songs together as a regular part of our gigs and I experienced a familiar pang of regret at his departure from my life. Musing over it more after I'd arranged to meet Tom for lunch the next day before bidding him goodnight, then showered and gotten into my pyjamas, I sent Rick and Ed a text to say I'd like to do an album of duets.

That dealt with, I took a deep breath and called Ben.


	4. No Rest For The Wicked

Present day

I'd grown accustomed, over the last almost-eighteen months of marriage, to the large crowds we seemed to attract whenever Ben and I appeared together in public. The combination of my fans and his – mostly his, of course – we didn't mind, but the ever-present horde of paparazzi had become one of those necessary evils you reluctantly learn to live with and love to hate. Since the official announcement of our baby expecting status it had only gotten worse, but it still surprised me when we got to LAX to find a huge mob of people waving, yelling and staring at us – because, let's face it, there must be literally hundreds, if not thousands, of celebrities who pass through this airport on an annual basis, even more so in the past week as they arrived from all corners of the globe for the Oscars. Well, perhaps people just camped out and waited to see whichever celebrity happened to be travelling that day; it would be like going fishing using a shotgun – you couldn't fail to catch something.

We were among the fly-in, fly-out ensemble; I was halfway through a tour of Canada, which continued to be the third highest market for my music behind the UK and Australia, so would be flying to Calgary, and Ben had taken three days off filming in South Carolina so would be returning there.

"Darling, are you ready to face the crowd?" Ben queried. "Are you feeling all right?"

He was incredibly solicitous over my welfare and that of our babies, constantly checking it wasn't all too much for me whenever we encountered this situation; I hastened now to assure him I was fine. "Are you stopping to do autographs and selfies or is it just waving and posing for a few photos?" I asked.

"Just a wave and quick pose, I think – unless you'd rather stop?"

"Do we have time?"

He consulted with the airport security person just ahead of us, who spoke briefly on his walkie-talkie then shook his head. No time for selfies then - I hoped Ben's fans wouldn't be too disappointed. We smiled and waved to those held behind cordons; occasionally we could make out a comment shouted over the hubbub and respond accordingly, but most of the time it was just a jumble of white noise. Towards the end of the corridor we stopped and posed, arms around each other, turning this way and that as flashes dazzled from every angle and my cheeks became sore from smiling. I noticed another of our security personnel bend down to someone in the crowd then turn and look to us, so nudged Ben and nodded in their direction as I caught the eye of the guard and raised an inquiring brow. He gave a half smile and indicated someone I hadn't been able to see before – an elderly lady in a wheelchair, hugging something to her and looking hopefully towards us. Smiling, I took Ben's hand and drew him over there, where we were introduced to Betty, who held a teddy bear in a hand-knitted Sherlock outfit – complete with miniature Belstaff coat and deerstalker cap – which she wanted to gift us for our baby.

"That's so kind of you, thank you very much," Ben told her, and I could see he was genuinely touched.

"Did you knit the outfit yourself?" I asked, not at all surprised when she said she had. "It's amazing; thank you, we'll treasure it always." Ben leaned down to kiss her cheek and a sweet smile broke over her face; I squeezed his hand as warmth flooded through me – maybe putting up with the paps wasn't so bad after all, if you got to experience moments like this.

\---

"I'll call you when I get to Charlotte; you'll have landed by then."

"Okay." I snuggled closer, more reluctant by the second to let him go. His unique scent surrounded me and I breathed it in deeply, needing to carry it with me for the next three weeks until we met again back home in London. "Be a good boy so filming doesn't go over schedule," I told him firmly, feeling and hearing the resultant chuckle reverberating close to my ear.

"Yes, love, I will."

"Promise?" I asked, my voice muffled now as I buried my face in his neck.

"I promise." The arms that had been holding me swept up to gently grasp my shoulders and move me back a little so his hands could cup my face. "Take good care of yourself and our little ones, won't you? Eat well and don't stay on your feet too long."

"You say that every day," I smiled at him.

"Because I worry about you every day." Earnest eyes pierced mine, his looking more green than blue today. "Have I told you today how much I love you and how incredibly proud I am of you?" I shook my head. "Well, I do and I am – so proud, sweetheart."

"Ben, I..." Come on, Cara, perfect opportunity to tell him you overheard him on the phone. "I'm proud of you too." Okay, I guess not. Damn, I'm a chicken. He kissed me then and I was inexpressibly grateful for the quiet privacy of the VIP lounge; sure, Matt Damon and his wife Luciana were over in the far corner, but they weren't paying us any attention. Ten minutes and a number of sweet, tender kisses later we were escorted separately to our respective flights.

\---

I looked up from my cup of tea to see Rick settling into the seat opposite me, a studiedly casual look on his face.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"You sure about that?"

I carefully put my cup back in its saucer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you haven't been yourself since you got back from La-La Land – you're quiet, calm, no overt signs of kookiness, always off somewhere in your head. It's freaking me out."

"I had a bacon, banana and peanut butter sandwich yesterday," I pointed out.

"I'd put that down to weird pregnancy cravings," he replied, giving me a small smile and reaching a hand across the table so I could put mine into it. "What's up, kiddo? Is it the babies? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, they're fine."

Rick's gaze searched my face. "So it's Benedict then."

I sighed, capitulating; I knew he was genuinely concerned about me and wondered if perhaps I might feel better if I talked to someone. Once I'd told him all about the overheard phone call he sat just looking at me for a few unnerving minutes. "Okay, so he's a little jealous, but I know you well enough to know that's not what's bothering you."

He's right, it isn't; what's eating me up is the fact that Ben hasn't talked to me about it. "We're partners; we're supposed to share everything with each other. It makes me wonder if he hasn't told me about this, then what else is there he's not sharing?"

"Ah, see, now that's where being a woman isn't always helpful."

I gave him a 'give me a break' kind of look and drawled, "Do share your insight, please, oh wise Obi-wan."

Shaking his head at my sarcasm, he continued, "You overthink things. Look, I don't pretend to know how his mind works but he's a guy, so I'm probably not too far off base. If I were in that situation I wouldn't tell Amanda about it because I wouldn't want her to feel guilty at having something I wanted, nor to detract in any way from her enjoyment of her achievement."

Well, shit, I hadn't thought about it like that. Why haven't I? Am I just being a completely self-centred cow now? When did I become that person?

"I think it's a combination of stress and hormones."

What? "Did I say all of that out loud? Shit!"

Rick smiled and patted my hand. "And there's a hint of the kook we all know and love."

I laughed for what felt like the first time in days – and probably was – then looked at my big, tough, fierce-looking friend with the heart of gold. "Where would I be without you?" I asked.

"Gone to hell in a hand-basket, I expect," was his grinning reply and I laughed again.

"Probably," I agreed, squeezing his hand then rising from the table. "Come on, let's go round up the others for a warm-up; we've got a show to do tonight, in case you've forgotten." And I skedaddled out of there before he could respond to my cheek.

\---

The first five interviews I did that day went without a hitch; it was the sixth - a radio interview during the drive home prime time slot - that poked the sleeping bear. I was tired, hungry and probably hormonal, but certainly completely unprepared for what lay in store for me as Rick and I arrived at the studio of KBFM radio in London, Ontario. An intern showed us in and introduced us to the announcer, Travis McArdle, who spent the next five minutes explaining to me – in the words and tone you would use to a four-year-old – how the headphones, microphone and on air signal worked. When he asked me to repeat it back to him to make sure I understood, I did, but an uneasy feeling began growing in the pit of my stomach. Once we were live on air things quickly went from bad to worse.

"So, Mrs de Luca..."

I interrupted. "It's Miss de Luca."

He frowned. "You're not married? But it's clear you're...in the family way."

Stunned, I sat silent for a moment, trying to work out if I could put any connotation on his words other than the one that immediately sprang to mind – that he was judging me for being what he thought was an unmarried mother. Glancing at Rick, I interpreted his look as 'don't rock the boat, Cara, just be nice' so I swallowed my annoyance before answering.

"Yes, I am married, but I use my maiden name professionally."

"I see...and how long have you been singing your little songs?"

My little songs? My fist clenched on my lap as I responded, "I've been singing professionally for fifteen years but only released my first album two years ago."

"And you're here in Canada to do what exactly?"

Oh my God, is this guy for real? Surely someone at the station has done their research – or why bother asking me to come in the first place? "I'm just completing my first short tour of the country and promoting my third album," I told him, making a huge effort to keep my voice civil. I was still catching 'calm down' looks from Rick, who was shifting restlessly in his seat. "All three of my albums have gone platinum here," I informed Travis, who seemed bored and unimpressed by the news, "which is a huge thrill for me."

"Of course it is," he replied smugly, and this time the clenched fist itched to have a close encounter with his smarmy face. "Well, it's always nice for a woman to have a hobby."

"Excuse me?" I blinked, sure I couldn't possibly have heard him correctly.

"Keeps you out of trouble," he was the only one laughing at what he was trying to pass of as a joke. "I'm mighty surprised your husband has allowed you to traipse around, given your condition and all."

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. "Allowed me?" I asked, my blood rapidly rising to boiling point. "Allowed me?" I repeated, shifting in my seat and completely ignoring the hand signals Rick was frantically trying to give me.

"Now little lady, don't go getting all upset, I'm just..."

I didn't wait to hear more; his patronising tone and instruction not to get upset were as much as I could take. Pissy Cara came to the party.

"Listen here, you misogynistic relic, let's get a few things straight, shall we? One; to call my songs 'little' is demeaning not only to me but to every female artist on the planet." I heard Rick groan but didn't stop. "Two; I didn't ask to come here, I was invited by your boss – to be interviewed by you, a radio host. And for your information, if you're going to invite an artist to your studios, the least you can do – out of, oh I don't know, common courtesy – is to do a little research on them first so you can ask questions that are intelligent rather than insulting. Third; I most categorically do not need my husband's "permission"" I did air quotes, "to pursue my career; he supports mine as much as I support his because he lives in the twenty-first century. Fourth – who the hell do you think you are to tell anyone what they should or should not be feeling? I have a perfect right to feel any emotion I damn well choose and it's not your place," I was stabbing my index finger towards him, "to dictate that, to me or any other person. And lastly, to speak to me in such a ridiculously patronising manner is completely unacceptable, which you would know if you ever took your chauvinistic head out of your arse."

The headphones clattered to the desk as I tossed them down, rose to my feet and headed for the door we'd entered by, fuming.


	5. The Return Of The Caveman

I knew there was going to be fallout; I couldn't call someone a misogynist and chauvinist on air and not have people react – something I hadn't given any thought to as I was doing it, as Rick was quick to point out.

"Do you think he had a right to speak to me that way?" I asked, incredulous. My feet were placed apart for balance and my hands firmly on my hips – a pose any man would recognise as spoiling for a fight.

"No, of course not..."

"Should I have just rolled over and let him? Is that what you're saying? Be a good little woman and let him treat me like a...a...dishcloth?"

"No! Cara..."

"Well, what the hell is it you think I should have done, Rick? I wish you'd tell me!"

"Then quit interrupting and let me get a word in edgeways!"

We stood glaring at each other; my blood was once again at boiling point and I knew I needed to calm down before I said or did something I would later regret – but I was having a lot of trouble paying attention to my saner self right now. Just as Rick opened his mouth again to talk, Marcus came in to the room, took one look at me and said, "Cara, are you okay? You look kind of peaky."

"I'm fine, I'm..." I began brushing him off then realised I did actually feel a little off colour. "Actually, I'm..." I looked around for a chair just as a faint wave of dizziness came over me. Rick and Marcus immediately rushed to my side, catching me before I could stumble, and while Rick held me, Marcus grabbed a chair and placed it behind me.

"Shit!" Rick exclaimed, sending Marcus for a glass of water then getting out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" I asked in a tone that may still have sounded a little peevish.

"A doctor."

"I don't need a doctor," I scowled.

Rick just looked at me. "If Benedict were here, would he be calling a doctor?"

"Well, crap," I replied, "if you're going to play the 'what would the doting husband do' card..." I sighed; he was right, of course, Ben would call a doctor. I accepted it and stopped scowling at my friend and manager. As we waited, more band members came into the room once they heard we were back, my anger appeased when all of them backed me up and said they'd have called McArdle far worse than I did. I snuck brief glances at Rick to judge his reaction but he was keeping a poker face and I wasn't sure whether or not that boded well for me later.

The doctor pronounced my blood pressure a little high and recommended bed rest for twenty-four hours; thankfully, we didn't have a show that night but we were due to fly to Ottawa the next day for a show in two days time. The travel we could easily postpone and the doctor assured me I should be all right to do the show as long as I followed his instructions. With the health of my babies in mind, I promised to follow them to the letter and allowed Marcus and Callie to take me up to my room. By now the phones of all those on Twitter, Reddit and Snapchat were going crazy with reactions to my interview – mostly on my side, they told me - and Rick was fielding non-stop calls from radio and TV stations. He gave them all a blanket 'no comment'.

I'd been resting for three hours when a light knock heralded the arrival of Rick's head round my door. "How are you feeling?" he asked, coming in quietly and approaching the bed.

"I'm fine." He nodded but remained standing. "How bad is it?"

He shrugged. "Not too bad. A few die-hards are calling for your blood but there're plenty who think he had it coming, so all-in-all...seventy-thirty maybe."

"Do you think it's going to affect album sales? Or the last two shows?" After Ottawa we had another show scheduled in Montreal.

"Hard to know at this stage."

"I'm sorry Rick."

At last he pulled a chair close and sat down. "No you're not."

"Okay, no, I'm not sorry about what I said to him, but I am sorry if I embarrassed you or caused you any problems; that wasn't my intention."

"I know."

"I just couldn't take his condescension any longer...you know me, hot Italian blood."

He gazed at me thoughtfully for a minute before nodding again. "I know; you were just standing up for yourself." He ran his hand over his head, rubbing a spot near one ear. "How do you feel about me saying you're on bed rest?"

"Pros and cons?" I asked, pleased to hear his grunt and see his mouth turning up a little at the ends. Rick was used to my pros and cons lists.

"It could get sympathy for you – big bad DJ upsets you in your delicate condition, etc etc; or it could look like you're the frail, weak woman who can't take any criticism."

I didn't like the sound of either and told him so. "What are you getting asked the most?"

"Whether or not you're going to apologise."

I snorted. "Well, you know that's never going to happen."

"I had a feeling, yeah."

I gave him a searching look. "Do you want me to apologise?"

He returned my look with a steady gaze. "Cara...do I wish it had never happened? Yes. Am I floundering a bit with the tidal wave of interest in this? Yes, but I'll manage. Do I want you to go on air and publicly apologise?" I held my breath, only letting it out when he shook his head. "Fuck, no! The guy's a jerk."

"A misogynistic relic," I added, grinning.

Rick grinned back. "Personally, I liked the 'get your chauvinistic head out of your arse' line." We both laughed, and I felt so much better knowing he wasn't angry at me. "So we'll just stick with the 'no comment' stance for now, yes?"

I nodded. "Thanks Rick."

"No problem. Have you spoken to Benedict?"

Shaking my head, I looked at the bedside clock. "He usually rings around ten."

"He's going to be worried about you and the babies."

"I know, but I'll tell him Doctor Rick is on the case."

He held his hands up in front of himself. "Keep me out of it; that man is crazy protective of you and I don't want to be grilled as to why I let your blood pressure get too high...heck, blame it on McArdle; the jerk deserves it."

He was right, of course; when Ben rang an hour earlier than usual – having heard all about my on-air performance from Karon, who'd picked it up in that magical way publicity people seemed to have – he was...well, let's just say The Caveman Returns.

"Facetime. Now," he demanded. When I told him about my blood pressure and being on bed rest, the fury on his face escalated and it was all I could do to talk him out of walking off the set and getting on a plane.

"Darling, we'll be fine. I'll stay in bed the whole time and the doctor's coming back tomorrow to check on me."

"Fuck! Shit! Bastard!" His language definitely deteriorated when he was upset. "I'd like to get my hands around his pathetic Neanderthal neck and..." I presumed he meant the radio jerk, not the doctor.

"Well, that wouldn't do much good, would it?" My comment drew a scorching glare. Okay, not such a good idea after all; let the angry man rant, Cara. "Sorry love, I meant...there must be plenty more satisfying ways of getting revenge." Phew! Good save.

My relief was short-lived, however, as it soon became apparent I had merely put myself in the line of fire.

"Have you cancelled the Ottawa show?"

"Um...no." Uh oh.

"Why not?" His eyes had now become mere slits of implacable testosterone-fuelled intent.

I bristled at his tone but knew I had to go against my natural instinct and tread gently on this one; both to prevent my blood pressure rising again and to protect my husband from spontaneous combustion. "I'm waiting to hear what the doctor says tomorrow; if he advises against doing the show, we'll postpone or cancel."

"Cara."

The look he gave me was all caveman and I shivered. "Ben, I give you my word. But I'll be fine, I'm sure, and remember – you went on stage in Hamlet with a fever and chills."

"I wasn't carrying our unborn children at the time."

I couldn't help it; his words hurt me. "Are you saying you think I would willingly jeopardise the health of our babies?" A single tear rolled down my cheek.

His hand raked through his hair and I heard his sharp intake of breath. "Darling – no, I didn't mean...Oh fuck! I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean that...I know you wouldn't." He spent the next five minutes apologizing for upsetting me, which at least distracted him from his initial anger. I forgave him, of course, and eventually talk turned to more mundane matters until I gave a huge yawn.

"Darling, you're tired. Get some sleep."

"Mmm, I will." It was only ten thirty. "Talk to me until I fall asleep?"

He agreed, so I brushed my teeth and plugged my phone into the charger before climbing back between the fresh, crisp sheets. Switching off the bedside lamp, I snuggled under the blankets, returning his sweet smile as we kept talking until I drifted off.

\---

I stayed in bed all the following day, as promised, receiving visits only from Marcus, Rick and Callie. Media attention remained heavy and Rick was still giving the 'no comment' line. Mid morning he reported that McArdle was saying I had 'created a storm in a teacup' by taking offence at his words when they'd clearly been a joke, and everyone was still asking if I intended to apologise. I watched a few of the morning TV shows to get some idea of public reaction, especially the ones that had people phone in with their views; they seemed mostly to be on my side and I was beginning to wonder how on earth McArdle even had a job if he spoke like that to all his female guests.

Ben rang during any breaks in filming and we had short conversations; he was keeping up with the media buzz too and was, of course, firmly on my side.

Just after a room service lunch Rick burst in, excitement almost pouring out of him. Grabbing the remote, he switched the TV on and tuned to the Ellen DeGeneres show just as she was mentioning the furore. They played the entire interview and at each sexist comment, the audience booed. Afterwards Ellen said, "Can you believe that guy? I can't believe he's even on the air – his views are like something out of the Ark. Apparently, he expects Cara de Luca to apologise for calling him a..." she referred to her notes, "a 'misogynistic relic' and telling him to get his 'chauvinist head out of his ass.'" Ellen looked down the camera. "Frankly, I think I'd have called him far worse. Cara, wherever you are, I salute you for taking a stand for women everywhere and I want you to know, for what it's worth, that Portia and I support you one hundred percent." Her audience, predominantly female, took to their feet and clapped. Rick flipped the TV off.

"What? How? I can't..." Stunned, I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Luckily Rick knew what I wanted to ask.

"Your story is everywhere. Apparently someone picked up that you're Ben's wife and it exploded; it's not local anymore, it's global. I've had calls from stations back home in the UK asking about it as well as all over the States. Twitter is going ballistic."

"Shit!"

"We're not going to be able to keep up the 'no comment' for much longer, Cara; you're going to have to say something. And this is going to garner amazing publicity – I'll be surprised if that jerk gets to keep his job after this."

Still reeling, I promised to give some thought to a press release or announcement of some kind. As Rick's phone vibrated with another enquiry, mine rang with a call from Ben; Rick waved me goodbye as I picked it up. 

"Hello darling."

"Hello. I've just heard from Karon she's been hearing your name all morning, my love - apparently they're wanting me to make a comment on the stand my wife is taking." 

"I'm sorry; has that been disruptive?"

"No, she knows how to field them off. I'm terribly proud of you though."

"Thank you. Are you going to make a comment?"

"What are your plans?" I told him what I was thinking and he loved the idea, then came up with a great plan of his own. I couldn't wait to carry them out.


	6. Stick It To The Man

With a medical clearance and Ben's blessing, we flew to Ottawa the next day to prepare for the show. The crush of paparazzi awaiting us at the airport was something I'd only ever experienced in Ben's company, but at least I knew how to put my head down and say nothing as we were helped through by security. Rick was still holding off every media outlet but we'd invited a few extra journalists to the show with the promise of a response they could print.

Once the show started I sang my opening set, pleased to see the 1800-strong audience were responding warmly.

"Thank you so much; it's a pleasure to be here with you this evening. You may have noticed that I'm without my guitar tonight – it's gotten a little difficult to play it lately." I patted my growing mound and the crowd laughed with me as I mimed holding a guitar in front of my bulge, my arms held outstretched to reach an imaginary fret board. "Short arm troubles. But I'm having terrible withdrawal symptoms, so if I suddenly bust out some air guitar moves, don't be surprised." That got a hearty laugh and I heard the band behind me laughing too. "It's hard to know what to do with my hands, you know? Anyway, right now we're going to sing a few more songs for you and if you know them, sing along; if you don't, just tap your toes. If you're a real exhibitionist, get up and dance in the aisles." More laughter. "Whichever you do, I hope you have fun."

Perching on a stool – part of my promise to both Ben and the doctor to not be on my feet too long for the next few days - I performed a variety of songs from all three albums, then we reached what I called the 'homage' section of the show.

"Canada has produced some of the most talented singing artists and singer-songwriters the world has known, so this next group of songs are a tribute to them. And just so you know, I'm expecting you to know all the words and sing along." We began with Nelly Furtado's 'I'm Like a Bird', moving on to Neil Young's 'Comes a Time' and 'You Learn' by Alanis Morissette, then slowing down the tempo for Bryan Adams's "(Everything I Do) I Do It for You', 'Constant Craving' by k. d. lang and finishing with Michael Bublé's 'Home'.

I sat and waited for the applause to die away.

"Thank you." I looked around the crowd as much as I could past the bright stage lights, trying to see where the reporters were and hoping the next few minutes would be well received. "You may have seen something in the news or on social media over the past few days about an incident I was involved in recently." Rick had told me I shouldn't mention any names. "I've been asked many, many times since then," oh Lord yes, that's an understatement, "whether or not I'm going to apologise for the things I said." I paused, looking down briefly while I gathered my thoughts. I couldn't help but notice how quiet and still it had gotten. Taking a deep breath, I looked out across the room once more. In for a penny...

"From the age of ten I was raised by my grandparents, who instilled in me a set of moral values I hold dear to this day. First and foremost, is that we are all equal, irrespective of race, creed or gender; as a woman I am no more and no less than any man and I deserve to be treated with exactly the same respect, courtesy and consideration." A restless murmur of noise was rippling through the rows of seats before me. "When I am on the receiving end of behaviour that is..." I chose my words carefully, "...not only outdated, but condescending and downright disrespectful, I refuse to sit silently and let it pass. Well, you probably knew that already." Laughter was interspersed with the shouts and clapping that could be heard throughout the auditorium. "If I am treated that way I will stand up for myself and I will never, ever apologise for doing so."

Now the response grew to a thunderous roar as most of the audience, many men as well as women, I noticed, rose to their feet; I saw arms raised in the air in punches of solidarity, feet stomping and fingers cupped in mouths for piercing whistles and I breathed a sigh of relief. I sat and waited for the clamor to quieten, knowing that around now Ben was releasing a photo of himself wearing a tee shirt that said 'This is what a feminist looks like'. 

When eventually the noise died away – and it took a while - I spoke again

When eventually the noise died away – and it took a while - I spoke again.

"The last group of songs I'd like to sing for you tonight are about empowerment, about equality, about loving and respecting who you are. I am proud to be a woman and just as proud to be married to a man who respects the same basic human rights."

There was loud applause again as the band began and I stood to begin the set with Helen Reddy's rousing anthem from the seventies, 'I Am Woman'.

 

I am woman, hear me roar

In numbers too big to ignore

And I know too much to go back and pretend

Cause I've heard it all before

And I've been down there on the floor

No one's ever gonna keep me down again

 

Oh yes I am wise

But it's wisdom born of pain

Yes, I've paid the price

But look how much I gained

If I have to, I can do anything

I am strong

I am invincible

I am woman

 

I could see a few people singing along and more joined in with the chorus by the time I'd reached the third verse. I followed that with 'Beautiful' by Christina Aguiliera, the chorus being particularly fitting tonight.

 

 

You are beautiful no matter what they say

Words can't bring you down....oh no

You are beautiful in every single way

Yes, words can't bring you down, oh, no

So don't you bring me down today...

 

After that it was Des'ree's 'You Gotta Be'.

 

 

Listen as your day unfolds; challenge what the future holds

Try and keep your head up to the sky

Others, they may cause you tears

Go ahead release your fears, stand up and be counted

Don't be ashamed to cry

 

You gotta be bad, you gotta be bold, you gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard, you gotta be tough, you gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together

All I know, all I know, love will save the day

 

I finished with Rachel Platten's 'Fight Song', by which time it looked like almost every single audience member was on their feet dancing and singing.

 

Like a small boat on the ocean

Sending big waves into motion

Like how a single word

Can make a heart open

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

 

And all those things I didn't say

Are wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

 

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm all right song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

 

Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep

Everybody's worried about me, in too deep

Say I'm in too deep

And it's been two years; I miss my home

But there's a fire burning in my bones

I still believe

Yeah, I still believe

 

And all those things I didn't say

Are wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

 

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm all right song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

 

A lot of fight left in me

 

Like a small boat on the ocean

Sending big waves into motion

Like how a single word

Can make a heart open

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

 

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm all right song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

Yeah, I've still got a lot of fight left in me

 

I channeled all my frustration over the radio incident into the last song, particularly the line 'I've still got a lot of fight left in me.' When it was over I felt almost as if I were throwing off sparks, my very core ablaze with adrenaline, the fire of my convictions burning in my belly.


	7. Oh, For Some Quiet

Oh my God, I am so pumped!

The music had stopped and I was stage front, taking my bows, electrified by both the song and the audience's reaction. Heart racing, breathing hard as if I'd run a marathon, the deafening applause rolled over me like thunder. 

A movement to my left caught my eye as I looked out over the crowd; turning my head slightly I gasped, not believing my eyes. Walking down the aisle towards the stage, clapping enthusiastically and accompanied by a burly security guard, was Ben. I caught his eye just as those in the front rows recognised him and the cheering rose to a whole new volume of loudness, rolling in waves as word spread and more and more people became aware of his presence. He came to a halt in front of me, still clapping and smiling like a loon; I laughed, blew him a kiss and signalled to him to come up on stage. Luckily the guard saw the signal and showed him the way; next thing he was beside me, hugging me tight and saying something in my ear I didn't catch. He looked positively edible in black jeans, the feminist tee and black leather jacket, his hair in neat short waves, and I couldn't wait to get him alone somewhere – but first, a wild thought was taking hold in my brain.

Removing the microphone from the stand, I signalled to the audience for quiet.

"What are you going to do? I should leave," Ben said as we waited for silence.

"You're not going anywhere," I told him, taking his hand and holding on tight.

"Cara, what are you up to?" he asked, sounding slightly suspicious now. He knows me so well.

"I told you I was going to sing a duet with you one day, Benedict."

"Oh, no." He tried to pull away but I had his hand too firmly gripped in mine. "Darling..."

But by now the crowd had resumed their seats and a hush had fallen over the theatre. I brought the mic to my mouth. "Thank you, you've been such an incredible audience. I guess you can see I've got a surprise visitor here," a huge cheer went up, "and I promised him long ago that we'd sing a duet together some day." Another roar of approval as well as more than a few feminine squeals. I turned to Ben, laughing, knowing he couldn't get out of it now. "What do you say Ben? You're here on stage, the audience are somewhat keen, and we have a band right behind us ready to play."

His face told me he would get me for this later, but I just laughed again, knowing it would be totally worth it. Giving a little groan, he nodded then growled into the mic, "It doesn't seem like you've given me much choice." But he grinned with it, especially when the audience laughed along with us. They applauded in anticipation as I quickly consulted with Rick and Marcus, picking an Elvis song as it suited Ben's baritone and I was sure he knew the words, then was back beside him to whisper the title into his ear as the band started the intro.

 

Well, bless my soul

What's wrong with me?

I'm itching like a man on a fuzzy tree

My friends say I'm actin' wild as a bug

I'm in love

I'm all shook up

Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah

 

Well, my hands are shaky and my knees are weak

I can't seem to stand on my own two feet

Who do you thank when you have such luck?

I'm in love

I'm all shook up

Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah

 

Please don't ask me what's on my mind

I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine

When I'm near that girl that I love best

My heart beats so it scares me to death!

He touched my hand what a chill I got

His lips are like a volcano that's hot

I'm proud to say he's my buttercup

I'm in love

I'm all shook up

Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah

 

My tongue gets tied when I try to speak

My insides shake like a leaf on a tree

There's only one cure for this body of mine

That's to have the girl/man that I love so fine!

She/he touched my hand what a chill I got

Her/his lips are like a volcano that's hot

I'm proud to say that (s)he's my buttercup

I'm in love

I'm all shook up

Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah

Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah

I'm all shook up

\---

"Cara Elisabetta, you are in serious trouble."

Wow, I got the full name treatment. I'm not sure if I should be really worried or really turned on. "It wasn't so bad, was it?" I tried. "You sang beautifully and the audience lapped it up. I've a pretty good feeling it will be in all the papers tomorrow as well, so free publicity – yay!" His face wore enough of the caveman look to send shivers throughout my core as he began a slow, measured prowl towards me. Okay, going with the turned on option. God, he's so sexy. "And you enjoyed yourself didn't you darling? You love singing Elvis; you sing it all the time in the shower." He loomed closer, eyes so intent I could feel the smoulder. Hubba hubba. The hotel room suddenly seemed a whole lot smaller.

"You lured me up on stage to get me to sing in front of all those people."

"No, actually sweetheart, I..." he was close now, really close, and it was getting difficult to think clearly. "I didn't...get the idea...until you were up on stage already." He just quirked a brow and stared into my eyes; I swear the man could see right down to my ovaries – which, by this point, were ready to wave a white flag. He pursed those full, plump lips and my eyes fixed on them, knees wobbling and breath coming in little pants. I needed to hold on to something and the most convenient thing at hand was him which, really, maybe wasn't the best option because through his shirt I could feel hard strength and firm, hot skin and saw the smattering of chest hair that was so...oh crap, I'm a goner. "Ben, I..." His lips were a mere inch away from mine. I tried to drag in huge lungsful of air, my brain screaming for oxygen while other body parts were screaming for something much more R-rated.

A low, deep growl from the back of his throat completely annihilated any remaining defences and I was his, body and soul. "You are an incorrigible wench," he murmured huskily, turning me into a puddle.

"Yes", breathed the puddle.

"You deserve to be punished."

Oh God. I licked lips suddenly dry and nodded. Holy crap, the man hasn't even touched me and I am ready to...

"Turn around."

I turned.

He lowered the zip of my dress, smoothing it down over my arms before allowing it to drop to the floor. Dexterous fingers unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. My panties soon followed. I began to turn back to him but his hands stilled me, wrapping around to caress the baby bump as the roughness of his whiskers brushed my cheek. I felt the softness of his lips against my neck, the butterfly touch of his tongue on my skin as he murmured close to my ear. "I'm going to make love to you now." Oh, thank God. "I'm going to kiss and caress every inch of your beautiful, luscious body." Mmmfph. "And you, my mischievious, sassy wench, will not touch me in any way; no hands, no lips." What? No!

"Ben!"

"That's your punishment for your little prank tonight, wife."

Dammit!

\---

"Am I allowed to kiss you now?"

"Yes."

I began with his lips, so soft and perfect and tasting of love, then followed his example by touching and kissing every delectable manly inch of him, and by the time I had done we were both ready for round two.

\---

I was right about the publicity; every newspaper, radio and TV station carried an item about my show – both the stand I had taken and Ben's press release, as well as his surprise appearance on stage. Ellen's endorsement got a mention as well. Rick was in seventh heaven when the promoters in Montreal called to say the show there had completely sold out and hundreds more people were clamouring for tickets; could we do a second show? I called a brief meeting of everyone involved – band and roadies – to ask them before I made a commitment, and with their approval agreed to another gig.

Ben had flown back to North Carolina; we'd said goodbye at the hotel but I knew from TV coverage that he'd faced a barrage of paparazzi at the airport. He hadn't stopped to answer any questions but had sent a wink directly down the camera, almost as if he knew I'd be watching. I smiled and hugged myself, remembering our passion the night before. Now that I knew I'd be home in London two days later than originally planned, I missed him more than ever. Which is silly, Cara, you've just seen him. Sheesh, woman, get a grip.

After lunch we climbed onto the tour bus and drove two hours to Montreal. I managed to doze a little on the journey, tired from lack of sleep. Because of my pregnancy and the whole carrying twins thing, we had purposely spaced the shows two or three nights apart, depending on travelling in between, so that I wouldn't be overtired performing two nights in a row. I was never more grateful for that than now at the tail end of the tour, as I was almost 24 weeks and did tire much more easily than usual. Rick and Marcus both hovered over me like mother hens and at one stage I accused them of having been recruited by Ben to be his deputies. They both scoffed and denied it but I didn't believe them for a second.

The ongoing frenzy of media attention was also very wearying and in spite of it being a positive force, I would be glad when it all blew over and I could go back to relative peace and quiet. Once I get home to the UK, I reasoned, things should calm down.


	8. Not So Peaceful

"Miss de Luca, we're going to keep you on board until all the other passengers have departed and then you'll be escorted off by an airport official." The friendly cabin crew member in his navy suit with red, white and blue tie smiled down at me as we arrived at the gate.

"What is it, what's going on?"

"There's an extremely large crowd of fans and photographers awaiting your arrival and authorities feel it would cause a disturbance to allow you to process in the usual manner."

"Waiting for me? Are you sure?" Ben wasn't due to fly in for another six hours, so unless he'd gotten an earlier flight, the crowd couldn't be for him.

"Yes ma'am, I believe so."

Well, shit.

"I'll wait with you, Cara," Rick offered from beside me, Marcus peering round him from the window seat. I'd taken the aisle to allow easy access to the amenities as I'd been suffering from morning sickness the past few days.

"I don't want to hold you up. Won't Amanda be waiting for you?"

"I'll call her and let her know what's happening; she won't mind waiting."

"I'm sorry to be such a nuisance." If I thought it would do any good I'd tell him to go on home and leave me, but I had no misconceptions about that idea being accepted; Rick was still in 'mother hen' mode.

"No more than usual," he quipped, grinning. I laughed and punched his arm. "Hey! No fair!"

Once the seat belt sign went off we let Marcus out, saying our farewells and hugging him goodbye, then sank back down to wait.

"How many people do you think are out there?" I asked Rick.

"Must be a pretty big crowd," he shrugged. "They don't do special facilitation for anything other than a real disturbance."

"You think it's about the radio interview still?"

"I guess so. Unless you've done some other crazy thing I'm not aware of?"

"No," I grinned. "Not this week."

"Thank God for that." I punched him again. "Just because you're a girl and I can't hit back..."

"Try telling that to my brothers," I told him. "Anyway, I thought it would be because I'm pregnant that you can't hit back."

"Yes, there is that too." We settled then. "So, first thing you're going to do when you get home?" he asked.

"Soak in a hot bath and call my nonna," I replied. "You?"

"Same." I chortled. "No, I think I'll probably just sit and talk with Mandy, have a beer and relax."

I groaned. "A beer sounds so good."

"Well, old girl, you would go and get yourself knocked up."

I made sure this punch landed on the same spot as the last one – my brothers had at least taught me something. "Enough of the 'old girl' business thanks! You've got five years on me."

"Ah, but I'm not popping out sprogs though, lovey."

"Like to see you try," I snorted and we both ended up giggling at the thought.

When the airport official arrived he and one of the cabin crew escorted us through to Customs & Immigration where we were taken directly to the front of the line to be processed. I felt guilty for the people standing patiently in the queue and avoided their gazes. Then we were shown to a VIP room while someone collected our bags and took them for inspection, until eventually they were brought to us and we were led out a more discreet exit where a taxi was waiting.

"You take it Cara, I'll go find Mandy."

"Okay." I gave my hand luggage to the driver to stow with my larger bag. "See you soon." Rick had gotten tons of offers and enquiries and we'd have to make some decisions before long. "Thanks for everything," I told him, hugging him tight. "I mean it. Thank you."

"No problem. Go home and rest and I'll call you in a couple of days."

\---

"Mia cara bambina. It is so good to hear your voice. You are well, you and i più piccoli?"

"Si nonna, apart from being jetlagged I'm fine. The babies are doing well, though I've had some morning sickness this week."

"Pane secco, cara mia. That will help."

"I've been having dry bread, or crackers. A cup of tea helps a little too."

"Bene, bene. When are you coming to visit me, dolce nipote?"

"I'd like one day at home with just Ben and I, so I thought we'd come the day after tomorrow. What does that make it? I've lost track."

"Domenica. You could come to mass with your brothers and I..."

"I'll see what Ben has planned, but we'll probably come after that nonna."

"Pranzo then; I will cook your favourite Cioppino."

My mouth watered at the thought of my grandmother's seafood stew, full of succulent shrimp, scallops, clams, mussels and crab and seasoned with oregano, thyme and basil. Knowing shellfish was something I had to be wary of while pregnant, I dismissed any doubts as I knew they would be well cooked. "Si nonna, pranzo. We'll be there before one."

"Eccellente! I am longing to see you, child."

"Me too. See you Sunday."

I added more hot water to the bath then sat back, resting my head and thinking about Ben, wondering how his flight was going and hoping it wouldn't be delayed. We both had a few months at home now, or close to home, at any rate – he would be filming in Wales for a while but would come home at weekends. I was told twins often arrived early so wouldn't be planning any work for the last two months of my pregnancy. As I was keen to record an album of duets before that, even if it didn't get released for a while, it only gave me eight weeks and that was without hearing any of the offers Rick had received. I sighed, wishing the Oscar win had happened last year when I'd had more time to commit to new projects.

Thinking of the award took me back to the conversation I'd overheard in LA. I felt better about it after talking to Rick but still wondered whether I should bring it up with Ben just to clear the air, worrying that if I did I would sacrifice his peace of mind for mine.

Once out of the bath I got into a loose tee and pyjama bottoms, even though it was only five, and gathered my hair on top of my head. I unpacked my suitcase, put on a load of laundry and carried my Oscar out to the lounge, wondering where on earth I was going to put it. A growl from my stomach sent me to the kitchen and I put the little golden guy on the bench while I raided the fridge. Ben had arranged for someone to come in earlier today with fresh food so I put some veal in a marinade for dinner and made up a small fruit salad to tide me over, then got comfy on the sofa with my book.

Waking two hours later to the sound of Ben's key in the door, I rubbed my eyes and picked up my fallen book as I got off the couch.

"Hello my darling." He dropped his bags where he stood and swept me into his embrace, kissing me till I swooned.

"Wow," I mumbled, "that was some 'hello', Cumbers."

"I missed you, wench."

"I missed you too." Just then I felt a wallop in my stomach and grabbed Ben's hand, placing it over the spot. Another good kick followed. "I think the babies missed you as well, love." The movement of one must have disturbed the other, for it didn't take long for there to be more jabs and bumps. As we enjoyed the gymnastics I noted Ben looked pale and had dark circles under his eyes. I put my hand on his forehead, only to find it warm with a faint sheen of sweat. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I've got a bit of a headache," he admitted, "and my bones feel rather achy too, now I think about it."

"Hot shower and into bed," I instructed, expecting resistance and a little surprised when he gave me none. While he showered I found fresh pyjamas, made a hot lemon and honey tea and searched out the paracetamol and thermometer. His temperature was slightly elevated but nothing to worry about; he drank half the tea and swallowed two tablets before sliding between the sheets and giving a deep sigh. I put an extra blanket nearby, knowing that if – as I suspected – it was flu, he'd probably get cold some time in the night. As an afterthought I hunted out a hot water bottle as well and sat it on the bathroom counter just in case. "Try to get some sleep, sweetheart," I told him, running my fingers through his hair; his lids were already drooping so I had no doubt he'd be out before long.

"Love you," he murmured.

"I love you too."

\---

I nursed Ben for the next three days and nights. I wouldn't let nonna anywhere near him, nor visit her myself in case I carried the bug. Rick came over on the Monday and we discussed business in between me taking glasses of water, cups of tea and herbal remedies in to my sick husband.

"You need to capitalise on the publicity generated by the Oscar win and McArdle incident," Rick urged. "Keep your name known as you won't be able to do much promotion for the next album." He made a good point; if I got the new album finished before the babies arrived, I'd be too busy to do much promotion for it. "I think your best bets are Norton and Chatty Man – they're both high profile - and a few of the morning TV interviews; we can use the excuse of your pregnancy not to have to run around all over the country doing the smaller shows."

"I can do phone interviews for the radio shows, can't I?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"What are the dates for Norton and Chatty Man?"

"Norton's this Friday - that's a song and interview, pretty much the same format as last time but probably a few more questions. Chatty Man is Wednesday of next week."

"Okay." I made a note of them in my diary. "And the TV shows?" We agreed on two breakfast shows this week with another two and three daytime next week. Once I'd written them down I was ready to address the work offers. The pile of emails and memos Rick had seemed awfully large. "These people are aware I'm giving birth in less than three months, aren't they? Do they all expect me to be able to work with them?"

"I made it clear your time is limited; some of them are happy to wait. Let's go through the pile quickly first and cull any definite noes, then look deeper at the ones you're keen to consider." I nodded.

"Cara!" Ben's voice warbled weakly from the bedroom. I excused myself and went in. "I'm cold," he told me, teeth almost chattering. He already had the duvet and two extra blankets wrapped around him. I popped the thermometer in his mouth while I filled two hotties, then put one near his feet and a second on his chest. Once he'd warmed up and fallen asleep again I went back to Rick.

"Do you think I'm being unrealistic wanting to do the duet album in the timeframe I have?" I asked him, knowing I could trust him to give me an honest answer.

"Given that you have no songs written or even decided who you want to collaborate with, yes." Damn. "I know that's the thing you want to do the most, Cara, but I just don't think it's feasible at this stage." A slug of disappointment hit me. "How about we look at who's wanting to co-write and co-record songs with you and negotiate those songs to be on your album as well as their releases, and start building up your duets compilation that way. Then by the time the babies are born you'll at have at least some of the album done."

It made sense and killed two birds with one stone, so we went through the offers in earnest and picked three artists to start with as well as a few events to attend and perform at.

\---

The next day Wanda came over to look after Ben while I attended an ante-natal appointment. I explained to my doctor about the high blood pressure episode in Canada and she made a note on my file, reminding me that with carrying twins I needed to be extra cautious of pre-eclampsia as it's three times more common in mothers of multiples. While everything checked out fine, I was given an extensive list of things to be aware of. We discussed the possibility of needing a caesarean delivery and agreed to talk in more detail at my thirty week check. I made a mental note to make sure Ben could come to that one.

She also carried out an ultrasound, giving me pictures of our babies to take with me that brought tears to my eyes and made me wish he had been well enough to be here. Then she took my breath away when she asked, "Do you want to know the sex of your babies?"


	9. My Love, My Valentine

Four months before

"Hi sweetheart."

"Hello darling; have you only now gotten back from your show?"

"Yes and you'll never guess what happened."

"Is it that you got Tom up on stage to sing some songs with you?"

"Damn Twitter! I suppose Karon saw it and told you?"

"Yes, love. Sorry."

I grumbled a little. "Did they have videos and everything?"

"Apparently there are some out there, yes."

"Well, I suppose at least all his Hiddlestoners will be ecstatic," I sighed.

"Did you enjoy having someone to sing with after all this time on your own?"

God, that man can still stop my heart with the way he knows me so well. "I did; in fact, I've told Ed I want to do an album of duets."

"That's a wonderful idea. When will you do that – before or after your tour of Canada?"

"After, I think. I've got too much on beforehand; I won't get any time to write. How's Morocco?"

"It's going well; we're on schedule so I think you and I will still get a few days together before I go to Japan. Is it terribly cold and miserable in Edinburgh?"

"It's always cold and miserable when you're not here to warm me up, Snugglebatch."

"I'm sorry, love. If it's any consolation I'm missing you terribly."

"Good."

He chuckled. "I know how you hate to be the only one sad and lonely."

"I do," I concurred. "It's absolutely imperative that you're sad and lonely too; it makes me feel much less so. Doesn't it make you feel less alone?"

His laugh made me smile. "Yes it does, my kooky queen; I don't know how you do it, but your wonky logic works."

"Been telling you for years there's a method to my madness, Scoobysnack."

"Oh god, Cara, you're...I love you so much, Mrs Scoobysnack."

"Excellent news." I paused. "And speaking of excellent news..."

"Ah! Guessing game?"

"Go for it, Cumbers. Three guesses; give it your best shot."

There were ten seconds of silence before his first guess. "You've captured a video of the Loch Ness Monster singing opera in Italian?"

"I like it, but sadly, no."

"You had some haggis with a good Chianti?" He made the teeth/lip smacking sound from Silence of the Lambs.

"That's terrible! I love it." We both giggled. "Only one guess left."

"Oh lord, the pressure...hmm...I can't quite piece it together, but knowing you it would be something to do with pipe bands, kilts and bare bums."

He was probably expecting me to either laugh or protest that my bum fetish was only for him, but instead I took a deep breath and said, "I like the way you think, Bunintheoven Cabbagepatch."

It took a second, then I heard a faint gasp. "What did you call me?"

I repeated it, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. "Bunintheoven Cabbagepatch."

"Cara...darling...are you saying...are we...are you..."

"Yes, love...you're going to be a dad." This time I heard only a very faint, muffled noise. "Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Are you crying?"

"Yes."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Should I have waited to tell you in person?"

"No! Yes! No – I don't know; I'm thrilled beyond...but I need you in my arms right this very second." It was too much; the emotion in his voice brought tears to my eyes, so now both of us were wiping wet faces. "Cara...thank you, darling."

"You don't have to thank me; you had a hand in it too. Well – not exactly a hand..."

His spluttered laugh dried the tears far quicker than anything else could. "Good god, woman!"

"What?" I pretended innocence, knowing exactly how he'd react.

"You know very well what. Wait till I get my hands on you."

"I've just told you, Cumbers, that's not what caused it...though, I must say, you are very good with your hands. And your lips. And your tongue. And your..."

"Cara!"

\---

 

Once back in London I went into the studio to record a new single which would be released mid January as I'd written it specifically for Valentines Day and Rick was hoping momentum would build in time for it to be the song for lovers to play. 

 

If there were no words

No way to speak

I would still hear you

If there were no tears

No way to feel inside

I'd still feel for you

 

And even if the sun refused to shine

Even if romance ran out of rhyme

You would still have my heart until the end of time

You're all I need, my love, my Valentine.

 

All of my life

I have been waiting for

All you give to me

You've opened my eyes

And shown me how to love unselfishly

 

I've dreamed of this a thousand times before

In my dreams I couldn't love you more

I will give you my heart

Until the end of time

You're all I need, my love, my Valentine

 

And even if the sun refused to shine

Even if romance ran out of rhyme

You would still have my heart until the end of time

'Cause all I need is you, my Valentine

You're all I need, my love, my Valentine

 

I was also taking advantage of Eleanor being in town for a couple of weeks and recording the first of my duets with her. I'd asked her specifically because I wanted it to be a thank you for her giving me the start to my solo career and for that reason I'd picked the song 'For Good' from the musical Wicked. We spent two days recording and I was there for another two mixing until I had the sound I wanted. 

Ben came home a few days before Christmas; I was watching out the window and raced down the stairs to meet him as soon as he got out of the car, throwing myself into his waiting arms. We gave the neighbours a bit of a show but it wasn't the first time and as none of them had ended up on the Internet, I was damn certain it wouldn't be the last.

He picked me up as I laughed, so happy to have him there. When I saw we were heading for the staircase I asked, "Are you planning to carry me all the way up there, Cabbagepatch?"

"And why not, Mrs Bunintheoven? I did it when we got home from our honeymoon, didn't I?"

"Yes darling, but we'd been...together...rather a lot then, whereas now we've been apart and... you're going to need all your energy." I wiggled my eyebrows so he got my meaning.

He stopped and looked at me. "Yes, my love, I understand...but you're carrying extra precious cargo now and I wouldn't want anything to happen...you know how you are with tripping over things – stairs, stray cats, your own feet..."

I laughed and slapped his chest as he grinned at me. "Wretch! That was one time and only because you surprised me."

He shook his head, still grinning. "That's what you say, wench!" And with that, he hoisted me higher in his arms and whispered into my ear, "I promise you I'll still have plenty of energy so you can have your wicked way with me, my darling."

Mollified, I allowed him to carry me upstairs. Lucky for him, he did still have tons of energy and lucky for me, I did indeed have my wicked way with him. All night long.

\---

 

Present Day

When I got home from my TV interview around lunchtime on Thursday Ben was up and dressed and making tea.

"Darling, I'm so glad to see you're up." I dumped my bag and put my hand to his forehead, relieved that it no longer felt feverish. "How are you?"

He gathered me into him as best he could with our twin lump between, a kind of sideways hug. "I'm feeling much better, thanks to your ministrations, nurse Cara." I smiled, about to make a joke about a nurse's uniform, when he spoke again. "Darling, why did I find your Oscar hidden away in the wardrobe?"

"Oh." Crap, I'd forgotten I'd shoved it in there while I tried to think of somewhere to put it that wouldn't rub Ben's nose in the fact I had one and he didn't. "Well, I...I just..." Shit! Think of something, Cara. Damn pregnancy brain! "I just...was waiting until you were better so...so you could help me pick a spot, because, you know, it can't just go any old where. The gold will clash with the furniture in the lounge and there's not really space in any of the bookcases because they're all chock-a-block full of...um...books and things, so...He might just have to end up in the loo, which is where a lot of them end up probably – I mean, it looks a little boastful to have it on display as it were and um..."

Next thing long fingers were tilting my chin up, piercing eyes boring into mine. "Cara? You're rambling, my love." Shit. It's not fair – he can always tell when I'm nervous. He kissed me – a hard, thorough kiss (which at least confirmed that he was, indeed, feeling much better) – then said, "Are you worried about appearing boastful to our friends or to me?"

He knows me so well! It's either scary or the most heart-warming thing in the world, and I'm leaning towards heart-warming. "Ben, I..." I floundered, only two words in. Oh Lord.

Shifting a little, he put his hands either side of my face and spoke earnestly. "Darling, you mustn't hide it away; it's an amazing achievement and you deserve it; you worked so hard and have so much talent it stuns me...I am incredibly proud of you."

"But...you said...in LA, I...I heard you on the phone...you said..."

"Fuck! You heard that?" I nodded. "Oh god, Cara, I'm so sorry. I admit, I was a little jealous of your win when I didn't...but darling, believe me, after about five minutes I realised how petty and selfish I was being and that my own disappointment was nothing compared to how proud I was of you." He kissed me once more. "Sweetheart, has that been on your mind? Is that why you hid it away, because you thought I would be upset to see it being displayed?"

I nodded again. "I didn't want you to think I was rubbing your nose in it."

He groaned, pulling me close again. "How could I ever think that of you? You don't have a malicious or boastful bone in your body. Sweetheart..."

This time it was me that kissed him, hard and thorough. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner, I kept meaning to and chickened out every time – so if I've been stewing about it, it's my own fault and I accept responsibility for it."

"Shall we put him out where he belongs then?" I agreed and went to fetch the statuette.

"Where shall he sit?" I asked, looking around for a suitable position.

Ben took my hand and led me to the lounge room, saying, "In pride of place, darling – the middle of the mantle." And he moved aside his Emmy and Britannia awards to make space, smiling at me as I tentatively sat Oscar next to them. "I love you so much, Cara Cumberbatch." I giggled, as he knew I would, because every time he called me that name I thought it sounded like cucumberbatch. "Stop laughing, wench." I giggled more until he silenced me with a kiss so potent I was having trouble staying on my feet. "I think I need to go back to bed now," he murmured into my ear.

"Are you feeling unwell again?"

"No, I'm feeling fine." He began inching towards the bedroom, taking me along with him. "I'm going to need the attentions of a nurse, though." Eyebrows waggled suggestively and he winked.

"Ben, it's the middle of the day!"

He quirked one brow at me. "When has that ever stopped us?"

Okay, good point Cumbers.


	10. The Right One

"Now, speaking of awards – Cara de Luca!"

"Graham Norton!" I responded, almost bouncing in my seat. He gave me a look. "Sorry," I laughed, "I thought we were doing a thing." I grinned when he shook his head at me and mouthed 'no'. "You're saving them for someone else, is that what you're telling me?" I teased and he gave me an eloquent glance that clearly said he kind of wanted to play but didn't know me well enough. Perhaps I should rein it in a little – I am on national television, after all.

"Cara de Luca," he tried again, looking at me from under his lashes to see if I was going to behave myself this time. I grinned again. "Could you have had a busier year? You've won an ARIA, a Juno and, of course, the Oscar for Best Original Song. You released your third album and your Valentines Day single was number one on the charts here for four weeks, you've done a tour here and one in Canada..."

"Yes. It was the first time they've let me out of the country all on my own - I'm not sure the label will be keen to try that experiment again," I joke.

"How did you find it?" he asked and I was sooooo tempted to answer 'I didn't need to find it; the plane took me right there'. I didn't though. National TV, remember.

"It was wonderful," I enthused instead, "the country is just beautiful and the people are very friendly; we had a great time."

Graham arched a look at me and I knew he was going to bring up the radio interview. "Not everybody was friendly. You had an...incident didn't you, which caused rather an international uproar."

I was still surprised at how big a deal the McArdle incident had been here at home; Wanda had kept clippings from papers and articles she'd printed from the Internet and we'd discussed it at length. My stand had just seemed to coincide with some unrest here over pay disparity between the sexes and women calling for greater child care support when they went back to work, while at the same time a few Hollywood actors were speaking out over female stars still being paid significantly less than their male counterparts. It was mostly a case of 'right time, right place'.

I laughed. "You've got me really worried now you've called it an international uproar."

"No it's fine, it's fine...can you give us a quick explanation of what happened." Graham waved his hand in invitation.

"Okay," I took a deep breath. "I was doing a radio interview..."

"Yeeees." He drew the word out, index finger under his chin as he nodded sagely, swinging his chair away from us, legs crossed.

"...and the...person...interviewing me was...can I say naughty words?" I knew you had to be over 18 to be in the studio audience, but it was the at home audience I was worried about. "What time slot are we in?"

"You're fine, little children have gone to bed, you're fine."

"Okay, good. Thank you. So, basically – and I'm paraphrasing here - he was a condescending misogynistic prick who thought women with careers were really just playing at things with the permission of their husbands and that as I'm pregnant, I shouldn't have been allowed out of the house."

The gasps of the audience turned to unhappy grumblings. Yes, totally with you on this one, guys.

"And you called him that..."

"I didn't call him a prick – oh hell, I hope my nonna's not watching this – I did call him misogynistic and condescending."

"And what was it you told him to do, at the end of your...ah...interview."

"You mean when I told him to take his chauvinistic head out of his arse?"

The audience applauded loudly while Graham nodded like a bobble-head and the other guests laughed and clapped as well. On my left was Miranda Hart, who murmured to me, "Oh, well done you."

"Uh hmm, uh hmm – and then what happened?"

"Well, as I'd called him that on air, naturally there was somewhat of a...media upset, I suppose you'd call it...and I was asked rather a lot whether I was going to apologise."

"And then this happened..." He played the clip from The Ellen DeGeneres Show with Ellen supporting me. "How did that come about?"

"To be honest I'm not entirely sure." I shrugged my shoulders, grateful he didn't push.

"Did you know Ellen's response had five million tweets?"

"No!" I gasped; I'd honestly had no idea. "Holy crap!"

"But you had rather a unique way of replying to the Canadian interviewer."

I smoothed my top over my lap. "Well, I'm a singer, so it seemed only fitting to use song to get my message across."

Graham explained about the songs I'd sung at the Ottawa show and mentioned Ben's press release, showing the photo of him in the feminist shirt. "And I believe Benedict was at your show to support you and even came on stage and sang with you."

At that there was an excited twittering from the ladies in the audience and I smiled. "Yes, we...we talked on the phone the night before – he was in the US, filming – and I told him I was thinking of doing those songs and he told me about the press release, and that was that as far as I was aware. Then at the end of the show he appeared completely out of the blue; I had no idea he was coming, so it was a lovely surprise."

"And so now you've become a voice for women's rights."

"Oh God, no, I don't think I'd put it like that."

"But you're certainly perceived now as someone who is carrying the feminist banner at a time when a lot of women are speaking out about the inequalities that still exist in society. How do you feel about that?"

Holy shit. "I...ah...well, it's certainly something I believe in very strongly, so...if my speaking out does anything to make more people aware and brings attention to the disparities that are still endemic in many areas, then...I'm happy to be seen that way." Okay, phew, good answer. I think.

"And, as you mentioned, on top of the busy year you've had so far, you're also going to be a mum. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"When are you due?" Miranda asked.

"Ah, they're due in..."

Before I could finish the sentence Graham jumped in with "They?"

Oops. Oh shit. Okay; official announcement regarding twins? Done.

"Oh...um, yes. Twins."

There was a significant 'awwww' from the audience, then loud applause. Even my fellow guests seemed to have gone gooey-eyed; certainly Graham had.

"That's wonderful. Congratulations again, to both of you."

"Thank you."

Thankfully, Graham then turned to the third guest, John Bishop. With the spotlight off me, I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't said anything too bad, though after I'd sung there would still be a question or two but they would hopefully focus on what I was doing next, musically.

Rick had shocked me yesterday when he'd rung to say my spot tonight would be much fuller than my first appearance here had been. I'd expected to sing at the end and have three minutes of questions about albums, etc, but he'd said Graham wanted me on the couch with the other guests for the whole show. It had at least gone smoother than I'd feared, so I relaxed and listened quietly - daydreaming a little, I have to admit - until I was brought back to earth when our host mentioned my name again.

"Cara de Luca."

I snapped to attention. "Yes?"

"Tell us, if you would – the first time you were on this show, who were the other guests?"

Uh oh. Where is this going? "Um...Han Solo, slash, Indiana Jones," I began.

"Harrison Ford. Yes." Graham was tapping his cards on his knee.

"Jack Whitehall."

"Yeeees." He drew the word out again. "And who else?"

"Um...Ben." Then I added, "edict."

"Benedict Cumberbatch."

"Yes."

"Your husband."

"Yes."

"Let's just show a clip from that show." Oh good Lord. The tape ran and there I was on the monitor, coming over to the couch after singing and being 'introduced' to the three men. "Now, there you are meeting Benedict...and less than a year later the two of you married, so what I'd like to know, Cara de Luca, is - did I, in fact, introduce you to your future husband, right here, on this very couch?"

"Oh...Graham, I'd...I'd really like to be able to say yes..."

"But I'm sensing you're not going to."

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip to keep from grinning. "No...sorry."

He hung his head in mock sorrow then took a deep, loud breath. "All right, all right. I had the chance there to be Celebrity Cupid, but you've completely ruined that, so..." He was really hamming it up and the audience loved it. I was having a hard time not giggling myself.

"Sorry," I muttered again. "But I did just spill the beans about having twins, so...you know...everyone heard it here first...if that helps, at all." He gave me a long-suffering look. "Perhaps it's time I went over there..." I jerked my thumb towards the music area, smiling.

"It is actually time for our musical number. What are you singing for us tonight?"

"I'm singing "When the Right One Comes Along."

"And that's your new single..." He rummaged around in his cupboard and produced the CD.

"Yes."

"Lovely. Well let me help you over there." He put the disc down and helped me down the couple of steps off the main stage area, walking me to the music stage and continued holding my hand until I was up the step. "Ladies and gentlemen, Cara de Luca."

I sat on a stool before the mic, my guitar on my lap. Although it was a little awkward, I managed still for the odd song here and there, and for this one I felt better accompanying myself rather than having someone else play. Rick, Marcus, John and Callie were all behind me, ready to go.

 

There's no music, no confetti

Crowds don't cheer, and bells don't ring

But you'll know it, I can guarantee

When the right one comes along

 

What they're thinking, what you're feeling

You no longer have to guess

All those questions are finally put to rest

When the right one comes along

 

Every single broken heart

Will lead you to the truth

You think you know what you're looking for

'Till what you're looking for finds you

 

In a cold world, it's a warm place

Where you know that you're supposed to be

A million moments full of sweet relief

When the right one comes along

 

And every single broken heart

Will lead you to the truth

You think you know what you're looking for

'Till what you're looking for finds you

 

It's so easy, there's nothing to it

Although you may not believe me now

But I promise honey you'll find out

When the right one comes along

 

All that changes is only everything

When the right one comes along

\---

"How did it go, love?" Ben greeted me as I came in the door.

"Well," I gave him a kiss as he took my coat and hung it in the hall closet. "Mostly it went fine..."

When I trailed off he smiled. "Another 'today is Friday' moment?" His arms wrapped around me in our sideways hug.

"No...not exactly."

Brows arched and the side of his mouth twitched. "Should I be worried? You didn't talk about my...er...husbandly prowess, did you?"

"No, no, nothing like that..." I patted his chest reassuringly. "But, um...well, let's just say family and friends are now not the only ones who know we're expecting twins..." He laughed and warmth hit my cheeks. "It just slipped out..." I muttered, burying my face in his neck.

"Not to worry," he was still laughing as he spoke, "it will save Karon some work."

"It could have been far worse," I told him, which only made him laugh harder.

"My thoughts exactly, darling."

This time I couldn't help it; I laughed along with him. Me and my nervous mouth? Oh yes, it could have been much, much worse.


	11. Overalls and Tuxedos

"It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"You and your big long name...it's such a mouthful to say."

"Why do you want to say my full name, love? You usually only call me Benedict when I've done something wrong."

"Exactly."

"What have I done wrong?"

"You needn't try to sound so innocent; you bought these cots, even though I said they were too expensive."

"They're the ones you loved."

"Trust you to use that as an excuse." I heard a muffled sound and glared at him, my hands on my hips. "Are you laughing at me, Snortlebatch?"

"No, my darling, I would never dare."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then why do you have that big fat cheesy grin on your face?"

"Because I can see behind you."

I whirled around – well, it was a whirl to me, but probably looked more like slow-motion to anyone who wasn't thirty weeks pregnant with twins – to see that the delivery men who had just brought up the cots were now arriving with more furniture. "Benedict! What else did you buy?"

"Just a few bits and pieces."

We were standing in the middle of the nursery, surrounded by walls in a soft aqua with fluffy white clouds painted on the upper third and large glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. Two men in white overalls had by now removed cot pieces from packaging and were beginning to assemble; more carried in two soft, plump armchairs and set them in front of the bay window, while another pair brought boxes of differing sizes and shapes, placing them carefully in a corner before heading back out of the room. Soon they returned with what appeared to be a changing table and after that, two chests of drawers.

"Benedict."

"Yes, darling?"

"These are all the things we looked at in the shop on Saturday."

"Yes, darling."

"How did I not know you'd bought them all?"

"I rang them later when you were having your rest," he smirked.

"That's a bit Sneakybatch."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You know I don't like surprises."

"I know, love." An arm slid around my waist as he hugged me to his side and bent his head to kiss me. "But I was pretty sure you'd like this one."

Damn him. I kissed him back, whispering in his ear, "I love it; thank you sweetheart," and answered his smile with one of my own.

We continued watching, mostly in silence but occasionally giving instructions on where to place things, as the nursery steadily came to life. Before long all the furniture had been assembled and positioned, packaging and tools cleared away and the overalled men gone.

I surveyed the room as Ben's warm mouth placed sweet kisses and delightful tingles over my neck and collarbone, then his hands moved to my stomach, gently caressing our bump. "We should talk names for these two," he murmured close to my ear.

"Mmm."

"I was thinking Alexander, after your grandfather."

"Really? That...that sounds wonderful."

"And perhaps Elizabeth for our girl? After her gorgeous mother."

I gave a small grunt. "Naming her after me might jinx her; she could end up with all my kookiness."

"I can think of nothing more wonderful," came his reply, nuzzled into my neck.

"Ben..."

"Yes, darling?"

"You're making me cry."

"Cry all the tears you wish, mia amata moglie (my beloved wife), and I shall kiss them all away."

\---

One of the events both Ben and I were looking forward to was very close to our hearts; Tim and Wanda would celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary in April and Ben was throwing a party for them. He'd picked a 1950s jazz theme as his parents loved the music and dancing of that era. 

I would be singing two half-hour sets – the maximum time Ben had allowed me to be 'working' as he called it – and had hired extra musicians just for the occasion. So while he was off filming Doctor Strange, the band and I rehearsed hits by Peggy Lee, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat 'King' Cole, Louis Armstrong and others. I'd even persuaded him to join me for my first and last songs.

On the night the four of us greeted everyone as they arrived, Rick and the others playing softly in the background as waiters in smart red jackets and cummerbunds wove through the crowds with glasses of champagne, canapés and hors d'oeuvres. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, throwing sparkling shards of light over the damask walls and rich tapestry of bejewelled and bedazzling guests.

My gown was one Toby picked out for me; a rich brown that matched my eyes, it featured embroidered lace sleeves and ruching over and under the bust, falling softly at the front. I wore my hair in the large curls of the day and pinned up at the back, with antique gold earrings Ben had bought for me in Marrakesh. He, of course, looked exquisite in his tux and wore an off white jacket and brown silk bow tie to match with me. Wanda looked ethereal and gorgeous in a soft blue gown that rippled and flowed as she moved, making her eyes shine all the brighter and ensuring Tim could hardly keep his off her. His traditional black tuxedo gave him a debonair look that rivalled Ben's and he too wore a coloured bow tie to match his wife.

An hour into the festivities Rick gave me a signal and Ben and I joined the band on stage. He made a wonderful speech for his parents, full of love and warmth and humour and I was so proud I felt I could burst. We all raised our glasses to toast the happy couple then our musical introduction played and we sang Time After Time for them as they waltzed in front of everyone.

 

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

 

So lucky to be

The one you run to see

In the evening when the day is through

 

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

 

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

 

In between sets I danced with my husband and father-in-law as well as a few of the guests, many of them household names from Tim and Wanda's more than half a century in British theatre, film and television. To end my second set Ben joined me again and we sang Unforgettable, Tim's favourite song. As they danced in front of us I saw him singing it softly to Wanda and had to let Ben finish the line alone as a lump appeared in my throat.

 

Unforgettable

That's what you are

Unforgettable

Though near or far

 

Like a song of love that clings to me

How the thought of you does things to me

Never before

Has someone been more

 

Unforgettable

In every way

And forever more

That's how you'll stay

 

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am

Unforgettable too

 

"We'll be back here one day for our fortieth anniversary, my darling kooky queen."

"Dammit Cumbers, you've made me cry again."


	12. Consequences Part 1

"Darling, it's nearly one; come to bed."

Usually the sight of my gorgeous husband wearing only pyjama pants, his curls dishevelled and a strong five o'clock shadow dusting his chin, would be more than enough to lure me to the bedroom, my huge stomach notwithstanding. Right now, however, it's a different story entirely.

"I can't, I have to get this finished before tomorrow...today."

He ambled closer, bringing with him the scent of soap and sleep. "You've been working hard for weeks, you need some rest."

"And I'll get some once it's finished." I heard him sigh and only just managed to stifle a grunt of annoyance.

"Is that coffee you're drinking?" What he didn't say – although he may as well have, for his frown and tone said it anyway – was that I was meant to cut right back on caffeine for the sake of the babies and also because drinking coffee at night kept me awake. Which, at the moment, was kind of the point.

I glared at him. "No, it's a different beverage entirely that just happens to look like coffee, smell like coffee and taste like coffee."

For some reason he didn't seem to appreciate my sarcasm; his frown deepened and he ran a hand through his hair. "Darling, the babies..."

"Are perfectly fine, Benedict, and they'll be even better if I could get this work done without further interruption," I snapped.

Sending me a glare of his own, he turned and exited the room without another word, leaving me to feel equal parts guilty, tired and stressed. Well...actually...maybe the stress outweighed the other two. I eventually crawled into bed around two forty-five, eyes barely open. Even the tumbling and kicking in my stomach couldn't stop me falling into a deep sleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. When I woke again the spot beside me was empty and the bedside clock told me I'd overslept by almost an hour.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

Foregoing a shower for a quick wash, I dressed as quickly as I could in comfortable clothes and slid my feet into the loose moccasins I'd been wearing the past week as my ankles were swollen. At least, I assumed they were because most of my regular shoes didn't fit, but it had been some weeks since I'd actually been able to see my feet. After picking up my papers from the study I hurried into the kitchen, only to stop in shock when I found Ben sitting at the table with the paper and a cup of coffee.

"You're still here? Why the hell didn't you wake me?"

"You needed to sleep."

I saw red. "What I need is not to appear unprofessional by showing up at the studio an hour late! Thank you very much, Benedict!"

He opened his mouth to speak but I didn't wait to hear it, walking out to the hall to pick up my bag then slamming the front door on my way out, silently fuming.

\---

"Cara, you look done in. Why don't you go home and get some rest? We can finish this off tomorrow."

I knew Rick only meant to be kind but I was also only too conscious of the deadline I was working against; songs had to be written and rehearsed for the gigs and recordings I was endeavouring to get through before I was so far along in my pregnancy that I couldn't manage them any more, or until the babies arrived – whichever happened sooner. Aware that twins more often than not arrive at least four weeks earlier than singleton babies, I had made commitments with other artists to work with them up until I was 35 weeks, which allowed for a little leeway. I was now 32 weeks along and things hadn't been going entirely to plan, mainly due to a poorly timed case of writer's block.

"No. We need to get this finished today; there's too much other stuff to do." I retied the ponytail that had come undone, took another sip from my water bottle and asked to start again from the top of the fourth bar. "And let's up the bass on this part, I want it to really resonate."

An hour later I was happy with it and took out the music for the next song.

"Aren't we done yet?" Marcus asked, looking at me then to Rick.

"We need to rehearse 'Like I'm Gonna Lose You'," I told him.

"We've played that hundreds of times."

"I've made a couple of changes on the chorus and I'd like to add..." Rick interrupted me before I could finish.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

I followed him out to the corridor, stretching my back as I went. "Cara, it's after seven and everyone's been working since eight this morning. They all have families and homes to go to..." his implication that I did too wasn't lost on me, "and I'd really like to call it a night."

Though it was frustrating, I decided I could use the time to work on my song-writing instead, so gave the go ahead and watched them all file out eagerly, waving goodbye as they left.

"Come on, I'll walk you out," Rick offered.

"I'm going to stay here and get some writing done," I told him without looking up. When he made no reply I added, "Fewer distractions."

After a minute's silence he asked, "You've got your phone with you?" The building was quite safe and secure, but I knew he wanted to make sure I could call for help if I needed it.

"Yep." I lifted it from where it sat in front of me and showed it to him.

"Okay. See you tomorrow. Don't stay too late."

"I won't. Goodnight Rick."

As it turned out I did stay late, tortured once again with words not flowing as they usually did and a particularly tricky bridge in a song I was planning to record with Ed next week. More frustrated than ever, I had to give up when the quavers in front of me began dancing the Macarena. I packed up, locked the studio and caught a taxi home.

Shutting the door quietly behind me, I left my bag in the hall and headed to the kitchen to get some water, not bothering to turn on lights as I knew the route well and didn't want to alert Ben to my arrival.

"Fuck!" I clutched my hand to my heart, pounding nineteen to the dozen when I saw a figure sitting at the kitchen table in the dark. "What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me!"

"I've been waiting for you. Do you know what time it is?" He got up and switched on the light over the stove.

"Around ten, I guess."

"Cara, it's almost eleven thirty. Where the hell have you been till this hour?"

"You know damn well where I've been; at the studio, working."

"Everyone else left four hours ago."

"How do you know that? What, are you spying on me now?"

The look on his face told me that didn't go down well; eyes narrowed, lips pressed tightly together so his Cupid's bow was barely showing, a flush of red on his cheeks. When he spoke his voice was tight and controlled. "I rang you a number of times and when you didn't answer I called Rick."

I groaned; I'd set my phone to 'do not disturb' mode and forgotten to check it. Looking at it now I saw the notification for five missed calls, all from Ben. "Oh, okay. Sorry."

His breath hissed as he drew it in, my brain barely registering how it made his shirt draw tightly across his chest. I waited for him to speak but he seemed to be waiting too, so after a couple of minutes of silence I shrugged and turned towards the hallway. "I'm bushed; I'm going to bed," I told him, dragging my feet slowly towards our bedroom. By the time he came in I was in bed, about to turn out the light. He strode silently to his side, took his pyjama pants from under the pillow and turned back to the door. "Where are you going?" I asked, aware I sounded peevish.

"I'm going to sleep in the spare room."

"Oh, buona dolore!" I muttered under my breath as he went out, not really caring whether or not he heard me. (Oh, good grief!)

He slammed the door of the spare room when he went in and I thought a very naughty word before closing my eyes.

\---

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Rick asked me, no doubt prompted by the dark circles I hadn't even been bothered to try to hide.

"Yes." I kept my answer short, remembering the dream that had plagued what few hours of sleep I had managed to achieve; Kahn chasing me, firing weapons of increasing power, asking over and over, "Is there anything you would not do for your family?" The door to the spare room was open when I got up, the bed empty and Ben gone.

Rick merely grunted and handed me a cup of peppermint tea, my caffeine-free staple these days. "How's the song for Ed coming along?"

I tipped my head back, pulling a face.

"That good, huh?" Now it was my turn to grunt. "You've never had a dry patch this bad before," he observed, which I was really thrilled to hear right now. When I just looked at him, he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, shutting up and minding my own business."

Well that's a first.

He called the others to order and we got to work; taking a break two hours later I remembered to check my phone and seeing I had missed a call from Tony not long before, rang him back. "Hi; what's up?"

"When was the last time you visited nonna?" he asked, without even saying hello.

"Um, I'm not sure; three weeks, maybe. Why? Is she okay?"

"She misses you. She's asked about you a number of times. Can you go see her soon?"

"Yes, of course, I'll, um...I'll go tonight when we finish up."

"Grazie, sorellina."

I knew nonna ate at six so called a halt to work at five, which seemed to astonish everyone, and went via taxi to the shop, catching Marco just as he was locking up.

"Well hello stranger," he teased.

"Don't you start too," I told him, "I've already had Tony on my back."

"You've been conspicuous by your absence, sorellina."

"I'm here now aren't I? Come on, you can push me and these babies up the stairs." He laughed but put an arm around my back to help me up the narrow flight, opening the door of the flat and announcing, "Look who's come to visit, nonna."

"Cara! Ragazza dolce!" Warm hands that smelled of rosemary and thyme cupped my cheeks for a moment before I was enveloped in her usual embrace, face smothered against her apron. (Sweet girl)

"Ciao nonna." I kissed her cheeks.

"Caro, what is happening? You are ill? Is it i bambini?"

"No, I'm fine."

She grasped my cheeks again, shaking gently as she scolded. "This is not fine, cara mia, look at these eyes! This skin! These hollow cheeks! Come, I will feed you up and you will feel better."

"I'm well, nonna, honestly. I'm just tired; I've been working very hard – there's so much to do before the babies arrive."

"Ah, and tell me, piccolo, do you think you will be resting when i bambini are here? No, no, there is no rest once you are una madre, Cara – you need to take your rest now. You are working too hard, cara mia."

I sighed; everyone I knew seemed very keen to tell me I was working too hard, but none of them seemed to appreciate how important it was to accomplish as much as I could in the next few weeks. I had made commitments to people and I was a woman of my word; I had no intention of letting anyone down if I could help it.


	13. Consequences Part 2

Nonna had sent me home once I could barely keep my eyes open. I'd texted Ben earlier to tell him where I was dining and he'd replied he would be catching up with Tom, who was in town for a few days, so all was quiet in the flat. I tumbled into bed, sleeping fitfully for a few hours before being woken at two in the morning with the twins seemingly intent on jumping up and down on my bladder. After tending to that need I adjusted all my pillows but further sleep eluded me as the list of everything I needed to accomplish kept rewriting itself in my brain. Around three thirty I had a shower then went into the study to work on the song for Ed, achieving very little and becoming more and more frustrated with every abandoned phrase and note. By five I gave up in disgust and headed back to bed. I hadn't heard Ben come in but the spare room door was closed again, so I knew he was home. Any temptation to go in there was quashed by the memory of our last encounter and I knew I had nowhere near enough mental energy to cope with another round of disapproval.

Waking later I was disoriented for a few minutes and had a moment's panic when I saw the time, then remembered I had an ante-natal appointment this morning so wasn't expected at the studio until later. When I sat up I experienced some mild dizziness and put it down to lack of sleep.

My doctor's rooms were in Notting Hill, in a beautiful old house with sky high ceilings and large rooms full of light, painted in a warm butter-soft yellow. The ground floor consulting room looked out on a cottage garden gone wild, with foxglove, larkspur and peonies waving amidst cornflour, lavender and Delphiniums. It was a sight that usually filled me with peace and tranquillity.

Usually.

"Your blood pressure is 150/100."

"Wh-what?"

"It's too high Cara. And I can tell without having to ask that you're not sleeping well; have you been particularly stressed?"

I explained all the things I had on my plate and admitted to being stressed.

"Can you give me a urine sample? I need to check your protein levels." Stunned, I took the glass container and headed to the loo, listening intently while she reminded me of the dangers of pre-eclampsia as she tested it. "Okay, protein levels are normal, thankfully, but I want to check your blood pressure again in four hours and may need to run other tests also. Meanwhile, I suspect you're dehydrated and your weight gain this month indicates you probably haven't been eating well either, so I'm going to book you in to a hospital bed and keep an eye on you for a day or two. If your blood pressure doesn't come down significantly I will place you on Activity Restriction."

"Activity Restriction? What's that?"

"It's basically what we used to call bed rest but you don't have to spend all your time in bed, as that's not a completely healthy option either. You would be restricted to certain low impact, low stress activities with plenty of rest and eating healthily. You won't have to give up work entirely, just cut it back to a number of hours that won't negatively impact on your health or that of your babies."

"How...how long for?"

"If you want your babies to go full term – until they are safely delivered."

Her words shocked me into finally realising that while I'd been so focussed on not letting down my work colleagues, I had been letting down the people who mattered most – my husband and unborn children. As the enormity of what I'd done started sinking in, I began to feel ashamed of myself and terrified that my driven behaviour may have caused harm to our babies. Choking back tears, I promised to follow every instruction to the letter.

Within an hour I was in a private room with pale green walls and sprigged floral curtains. I rang Rick and told him the situation, asking him to hold everything while I worked out a plan. I'd decided that whether I was put on restricted activity or not, work had to take much less of my time; I just needed to determine where to make some serious cut backs.

Then I was faced with having to call Ben. My fingers fumbled as I pressed the buttons and anxiety knotted my chest; he had every right to be angry and disappointed and I knew I deserved his censure but that didn't make it any easier to anticipate.

"Hello."

"Hi...Ben, I...I need to tell you..."

He must have picked up on the turmoil in my voice, for he gave a loud gasp. "Cara, where are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm...I'm in hospital..."

I heard a loud clatter close to the phone and Ben muttering obscenities under his breath as well as other voices raised in query. When he spoke he sounded like he was running. "Which hospital? Darling, tell me you're okay, please."

After giving him the name of the hospital and its address I began to explain the problem with my blood pressure.

"I'm in a taxi, love, I'm on my way. Go faster, man! Keep talking to me, sweetheart."

I poured out all my shame and remorse for the way I'd been behaving and for putting our babies at risk, tears streaming down my face while he gave me updates on his location.

"I'm here, Cara, I'm at the entrance. I'll be there in just a minute. Here; keep the change."

He didn't disconnect our call, so I heard him ask for me at reception then his feet running down the hall. I put down my phone as he burst into the room and I burst into fresh tears. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...I wouldn't want..."

His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me tightly to his chest, kissing my hair as I listened to his pounding heartbeat. "I know."

"There was just so much responsibility and...I got so stressed trying to cope with it all...and I...I lost my focus."

"It's okay sweetheart." He was so warm and strong; I felt as if I'd come home safe to port after a long and arduous sea voyage.

"It's not, Ben, it's not okay. I put work first and lost sight of the most precious things in my life. I love you, darling, I love you so much, and I love Alex and Lizzie so much and...I'm so ashamed and I'm so, so sorry."

"Sweetheart...hell, I knew how overpowering that success can be, I've been through it myself...suddenly you're offered work you've always wanted and you don't want to turn anything down, you yearn to experience it all. I'm sorry, my love, I should have helped you more...I should have seen you were struggling."

"I didn't see it myself until it was almost too late. Oh God, I'm a terrible wife and mother. Why do you love me? Maybe you don't any more – maybe I've ruined everything and you want someone who's not such a kook...Do you?"

"Do I want someone who's not such a kook?" I nodded as his thumbs wiped moisture from my cheeks. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't trade you for any other woman in the world."

"Really? Not even for a five foot ten blonde supermodel with legs up to her navel who can speak eight languages and does tai chi and is the perfect mother to your six children?"

He gave me the half smile I'd fallen for the first night we met and my heart jumped in my ribs all over again. "Not for a whole catwalk of five foot ten blonde supermodels...wait, did you say eight languages? I might have to reconsider..." His grin let me know he was joking and I buried my head against his neck.

"Too late, Cumbers, you had your chance...you're stuck with me now."

He gave a huge sigh. "Thank goodness."

We snuggled peacefully for a few minutes, my sniffles subsiding, before I ventured, "You know, I bet if I scoot over a bit, there'd be room for you in this bed."

"Is that allowed, do you think? Fraternisation on the wards?"

"I don't know, but imagine how excited the nurses will be in the morning to come in and find a Hollywood heartthrob in their bed!"

His laugh sounded to me like Heaven singing. "As long as you're thrilled to find a Hollywood heartthrob in your bed, my kooky queen; that's all that matters."

"I certainly would be," I told him, "Will you ring Tom and see if he's available?"

He silenced my teasing in the best way possible, my God of Kissing.

\---

"Postpone everything Rick, except the song with Ed."

"You're sure? That one has been causing you all kinds of grief."

"I know, but the perfect song came to me today. Can you come by some time soon and we'll get it down? Then you can give it to Ed and he can tweak it."

"Okay, sure. I'll call in tomorrow."

A week later Ed and I recorded 'All We'd Ever Need'. It would be released as a single and feature on Ed's new album and, eventually, my own album of duets.

 

Boy it's been all this time

And I can't get you off my mind

Nobody knows it but me

I stare at your photograph

Still sleep in the shirt you left

And nobody knows it but me

 

Every day I wipe my tears away

So many nights I've prayed for you to stay

 

I should've been chasing you

I should've been trying to prove

That you were all that mattered to me

I should've said all the things that I kept inside of me

Then maybe I could've made you believe

That what we had was all we'd ever need

 

My friends think I'm moving on

But the truth is I'm not that strong

And nobody knows it but me

And I've kept all the words you said

In a box underneath my bed

And nobody knows it but me

 

But if you're happy I'll get through somehow

But the truth is that I've been screaming out

 

I should've been chasing you

I should've been trying to prove

That you were all that mattered to me

Oh I should've said all the things

That I kept inside of me

And maybe I could've made you believe

That what we had

Was all we'd ever need

 

It was all we'd ever need

Oh I thought it was all we'd ever need

 

I should've been chasing you

You should've been trying to prove

That you were all that mattered to me

Oh you should've said all the things

That I kept inside of me

And maybe you could've made me believe

That what we had yeah

Oh, that what we had (what we had)

It was all we'd ever need

It was all we'd ever need


	14. That Was Unexpected Too

"I don't understand how you can eat that."

"It's really good, you should try it."

"Good lord, no. I'm happy for you to have your kooky cravings all to yourself, love." From the look on Ben's face you'd think he'd trodden in something a dog left behind.

"Come on Cumbers, don't be a woose." I held out a heaped spoonful of my current craving; Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream – banana with fudge chunks and walnuts – with added honey, peanut butter and pretzels. When his face screwed up even further, I shrugged, "More for me," and put the delectable goodness into my own mouth, chewing happily.

"I suppose at least it's better than the pickled gherkins dipped in strawberry jam you were eating last week," he observed as he put the kettle on.

"Gherkins!" I exclaimed, looking at him wide eyed. "Oh God yes! They'd be perfect with Chunky Monkey!"

Eyes rolled heavenward as he groaned loudly. "Sweetheart, you can't be serious!" When he looked at me I batted my eyelashes over a pleading look I hoped was worthy of the cutest of Labrador puppies, jubilant when he groaned again and moved to the pantry. "We don't seem to have any," his voice came from the depths.

"Ha! Caught you out, Benedict – Maria got some more yesterday when she shopped for me." I heard him muttering. "What was that?"

"Nothing." The jar appeared before me, opened, along with a fork to fish them out with and a serviette. "Do you still want tea?"

I sent him a speaking glance. "No love, don't be silly. Peppermint won't go with the gherkins. Just a glass of water please."

There was more muttering but I ignored it, lost in my own little culinary heaven. When he came back with his tea and my water he put them on the coffee table and turned to me. "What are we watching?" It was movie night, and my turn to choose.

"Hawking," I said immediately.

He groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "Sweetheart, really? You know I hate watching myself on screen."

"I don't know why; you're brilliant in everything you do." I'd been binge watching all his old movies and TV show appearances and Hawking was one of my favourites. "Please, Benny – you are so adorable in that one." I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Please? For me?" I wonder if it would be too much to bat my eyelashes again.

"I rather think you are using this pregnancy as an excuse to get away with all kinds of things, wench."

I grinned. "Hell yes, Cumbers, I'm milking it for all it's worth while I've got the chance."

His bark of laughter made me laugh too, as it always did, and he kissed me before getting up and putting on the movie, shaking his head at me the whole time, which only made me giggle more. When he settled back down I put my snacks aside and snuggled into his arms, resting my head on his shoulder and threading my fingers through his.

"Awww," I said when he first appeared on screen. "You look so young – and that pudding basin haircut is so cute." At the scene in the hospital when his character was having a lumbar puncture, I turned my face into his chest. "I can't watch this bit."

"Darling, it's not real."

"You make it look real – you're trying to be so brave but the pain on your face and the sounds you make..." I covered my ears as well, grateful that it was only a short scene. As the movie went on he valiantly sat through all the times I squealed and called him cute or adorable as well as telling me anecdotes about the shooting and by the time it had finished I was more than ready for bed.

\---

"Ben," I whispered, getting no response. "Benny." He still didn't stir. "Benedict." I made my voice a little louder and he moved a fraction and murmured something but didn't wake. Having been kept up for almost two hours by our restless babies, I was not impressed at his ability to stay asleep while I couldn't even get to sleep. I poked his side then tickled and it took only a few seconds before he began wriggling.

"Mmmgpfhgh."

"Wake up, damn you!"

He did then, blinking owlishly at me before mumbling, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep," I huffed. "Your children are squirming around like worms on a fishing hook; I feel like my insides are black and blue and I have to pee every twenty minutes."

"Why are they our children when they're quiet and my children when they're keeping you up?"

"Because it's your fault I'm as huge as Buckingham Palace and I'm the one who has to squeeze two people out of my body." I stared at him belligerently, daring him to argue. He initially looked like he wanted to, but saw my face and changed his mind. "What would you like me to do about it, love?"

"I've tried walking around and singing lullabies and it's not working. You'll have to do your song."

I'd discovered quite by chance while re-watching all of Ben's movies that his singing in August: Osage County seemed to comfort the twins and it had worked each time we'd tried it so far when they were particularly unsettled.

"All right. Lie down and get comfortable."

I adjusted my pillows, laying half on my side, half on my back, facing toward him. He moved down the bed a little, rubbing my humungous belly as he began.

 

Well I've never been a man of many words

And there's nothing I could say that you haven't heard

But I'll sing you love songs 'til the day I die

The way I'm feeling, I can't keep it inside

 

I'll sing a sweet serenade whenever you're feeling sad

And a lullaby each night before you go to bed

I'll sing to you for the rest of your life

The way I'm feeling, I can't keep it inside

No, I can't keep it inside

 

 

"Any luck?" he whispered, still rubbing gently. I nodded and beamed at him, my good mood restored. When he moved back up the bed I gave him a grateful kiss.

"Are they our children again now?" he asked quietly with a smile, pushing my hair off my face.

"Yes darling."

"You know, if you turned the other way, I could be the big spoon." I gave him an 'Are you serious?' look. "Or I could come around that side of the bed," he amended, chuckling softly, then got out and did just that. Having his warmth pressed along the length of me and strong, safe arms wrapped around me, it took barely seconds before I fell into a deep sleep.

\---

"Are you sure you're going to be all right tonight, sweetheart?" Ben wore snug jeans with a white shirt open at the neck and looked, in my opinion, very yummy. He was growing his hair longer in preparation for filming the next season of Sherlock and it was still dark from Doctor Strange, so the times when his stylist didn't attack it, he had riotous curls I loved running my fingers through.

"God, I hope so." I stretched my back and hips, which had been uncomfortable most of the day, and patted my huge stomach. "I feel like one of those circus tents." I wore a loose baby doll top over leggings – for comfort more than style.

"The Big Top?"

"Yes."

"I can wait if you want to change into the white dress instead..."

I threw a cushion at him and he laughed. "Don't push your luck, Cheekybatch – you're the one who got me in this condition."

Sidling close, he kissed me and murmured, "I seem to recall it being a lot of fun, don't you?"

Laughing, I kissed him back. "Mmm, very much so." Then I asked, "Am I wearing any shoes?" I'd lost the ability to see my feet quite some time ago.

"No, love. Which ones do you want? I'll get them for you." Two minutes later he was back with the wrong ones, rolling his eyes and grinning when I sent him off again. Seeing me grimace and clutch my back as he returned, he said, "Darling, I'm sure mum and dad won't mind if you would rather stay home..."

"Hell no, Cumbers, I haven't been out of this flat in three days. I'll be fine, really – besides, your dad promised he'd make his jam roly-poly for dessert."

He helped me on with my shoes then once we were ready we locked up and took the lift down - the stairs had been beyond my abilities for the last couple of weeks. It had taken a fortnight of restricted activity and close monitoring to bring my blood pressure down to acceptable levels and I had learned my lesson and was taking things easy.

It was lovely to see Tim and Wanda again; we all chatted comfortably through pre-dinner drinks, reminiscing about their anniversary and what a wonderful night it had been, and then enjoyed a lovely meal with the much anticipated pudding to finish.

"Tim, that was delicious as always," I told my smiling father-in-law.

"I can give you the recipe if you like, my dear, it's very easy to make."

"Don't do that; I'd be tempted to eat it all the time and would end up this huge permanently."

We took our tea and coffee into the lounge, Ben sitting next to me on a lovely new two-seater sofa. I fidgeted a fair bit, having trouble getting comfortable. The pain in my back had been steadily getting worse during the evening but I'd deliberately ignored it, not wishing to ruin my first night out in a while. Ben saw my distress.

"Darling, shall I take you home?"

"Not yet, but...could you rub it for me?"

I turned slightly and he rubbed my lower back while Wanda brought me some paracetamol, and the combination of the two relaxed me enough to sit a while longer. Talk turned inevitably to Sherlock, as my in-laws would be making another brief appearance in the upcoming season, and just as the discussion was getting interesting and I was keeping alert for spoilers, I felt something I hadn't been expecting just yet.

"Oh shit!" The words came out much louder than I expected and they all turned to look at me. "W-Wanda, where did you buy this lovely sofa?"

"In a nice little shop in Kensington. Do you like it?"

Ben chipped in. "Are we looking for a new one, love?"

"No," I shook my head slowly, still coming to grips with what had happened. "But I...I'm going to have to replace this one."

"Why darling?"

I looked him in the eye and told him, "Because I've either just peed all over this one or my water broke."


	15. The Arrival

"Breathe, sweetheart."

"I am bloody breathing! Does it look like I'm just sitting around doing macramé? Christ!"

"Sorry. You're doing wonderfully." He wiped my face.

"Am I? In that case, it must be your turn to take over," I panted, riding out the tail end of the contraction. Holy crap! Maria had told me it was a pain you couldn't describe and that you soon forgot about it afterwards, but what she conveniently forgot to tell me is how God-awful it was while you're going through it. I will definitely be having words with her.

Ben started to say, "I would if I..." but I cut him off.

"You seriously do not want to go there, Benedict, I promise you – we both know that's the biggest crock of bullshit there is." He wisely clammed up and offered me some ice chips instead.

I lay back to rest, looking at all the paraphernalia that surrounded me. I was hooked up to a drip and had two foetal heart-rate monitors strapped around me as well as a scalp clip that had been attached to Alexander, who was head down in the birth canal and determined to be first off the post.

"Cara." My obstetrician came in. "I'd like to administer the epidural now – you'll remember we discussed this earlier?"

I did remember this conversation very well. "Yes. Strange as it may seem, I'm much more amenable to the idea of pain relief now than I was then."

She smiled. "Good. This is Dr Keenan, the anaesthetist."

"Hello."

"Hello Cara. I need you to turn on to your left side for me please and keep very still while I insert the needle. If you feel a contraction coming on, tell me. All right?"

"Sure."

Ben and the midwife helped me turn to my side while Dr Keenan set up behind me, telling me when he was about to start and reminding me to warn him if a contraction began. Not long after, I did feel one starting. "Okay, just keep as still as you possibly can throughout the contraction. I'm almost finished." I closed my eyes, squeezing Ben's hand very hard as I rode it out as best I could without moving a muscle or holding my breath. Luckily it didn't seem long until he was checking my pelvic area was numb and I could breathe easy, knowing it was all precautionary and that the team I had around me were experts and experienced in birthing twins. Apart from the midwife, obstetrician and anaesthetist, there were two paediatricians on hand to look after them once they arrived.

"Sorry about your hand," I said to Ben, having seen him rub it, "but you can always learn to write left-handed, can't you?" I felt much more kindly disposed towards him now that my insides weren't being tortured.

He chuckled, pushing hair off my face and kissing me on the forehead. "Anything for you, my love."

"Does that include a shoulder rub?"

In answer he came behind me and began to massage my tight shoulder muscles with his large, capable hands; I moaned in appreciation as I felt some of my tension melting away. "If you ever decide to give up acting..." I started to say, and we both laughed at the old joke.

Things carried on in a fairly leisurely manner for the next three hours – or so it seemed to me, anyway. Ben and I chatted and I dozed a little leaning against him, waking each time the blood pressure cuff squeezed my arm or the midwife checked the extent of my dilation. Because having twins can so often end in medical intervention, we'd been told that I could labour here in the birthing room but would have to deliver in an operating theatre. That was why I had the drip, so they could give me fluids or top up anaesthesia if the need arose for a Caesarian. Last scan they'd done, Lizzie was lying transverse but we were all hoping she'd get in to head-first position once Alex was born and she had more space to move.

"Ben," I muttered, only half awake after another micro-sleep. "I feel terrible about ruining your mum's sofa."

"It'll be fine, darling, we'll get her another and she'll have a story to tell all her friends about what happened to this one." He kissed me and told me to stop worrying, so I drifted off again, only to dream of Steven writing the incident into an episode of Doctor Who.

"Right then," Louise said after the next examination, "You're fully dilated; it's time to move into the other room and get this show on the road. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," I say, perking awake with excitement and anticipation now that the twins' arrival was imminent. "Ready to push on command."

"Good," she smiled, and suddenly the medical team were all on the go, preparing my bed for moving next door and organising all the equipment I was connected to so it would go with me, while Ben went to the back of the room out of the way and looked bemused. "Benedict," she called to him, "your place is at Cara's head, no matter what happens; she's going to need you there with her, all right?"

He looked to me and I gave him a smile, holding out my hand. When he took it I pulled him down and gave him a quick kiss. "Come on, Cumbers," I whispered, "let's go meet our children."

\---

"You're doing great Cara; take a quick breather and then give me one last push with all the strength you've got." That breather went by awfully fast. "Right, here comes the contraction...push, Cara, push hard my dear..."

I bore down as hard as I could, holding my breath, my face scrunched up, one hand clenched on to the white hospital sheet while the other mangled my husband's fingers. Just as well he's not a concert pianist, I thought briefly before concentrating again on pushing a small human life out of my body.

"He's here! Congratulations mum and dad! Cara, rest now while we clean him up and see what Lizzie's up to in there."

He's here! Oh my God, our son has arrived. I feel...oh hell, I don't know how to describe how I feel...euphoric, terrified, humbled, thrilled...all of the above. "Is he okay?" is my first question. "Who does he look like?" is my second. I can't wait to hold him in my arms but I know they have to check he's breathing well first. At first all I could see were glimpses of pink flesh and moist hair amongst the blanket and medical staff. Ben kissed me then looked at the 'business end' of the bed as eagerly as I did and I noticed he was a little pale. When he turned to give me a smile I saw tears in his eyes and put a hand to his cheek, touching my forehead to his, knowing no words were needed.

Suddenly we heard a small cry and both gave a laugh of relief; that sound was music to our ears - it may not have been loud, but it sounded strong and steady.

"Here we go, here's Alexander ready to meet you."

A paediatrician brought him to us and the second I looked into his face my heart melted. "Welcome little man," I whispered as I held him for the first time, "We're so pleased to meet you at last." I examined tiny fingers and toes and damp curls as Ben touched his cheek and cupped Alex's head in his large hand.

"He's so beautiful," he murmured and I heard in his voice the same awe I was feeling.

Ben held him as I was told to push again, ridding my body of Alex's placenta, then they did an examination to see where Elizabeth lay and I was again very glad to have that area numbed so I couldn't feel what was going on.

"She's turned a little," we were told, "and your contractions are steady and about a minute and a half apart, so we'll give her a little while to see if she gets into position on her own." If she didn't, I knew it would mean either an assisted delivery or a C-section, so I closed my eyes to send my little daughter positive thoughts and encourage her to get into the right position soon.

Alex, meanwhile, was taken to the side of the room to be weighed and measured then brought back to us. He hadn't cried much and now gave a huge yawn; I found myself yawning in response and saw Ben do the same, making both of us grin.

"He's already got us bending to his will," Ben joked.

Five minutes later they checked Lizzie, making sure she showed no signs of distress and reporting she had moved slightly more into position. "Your contractions are only a minute apart now, though, so we're running out of time."

Come on Lizzie. Come on my darling girl, get your head down into that canal and come meet your father and I; we can't wait for you to get here and be with us and Alex. Lizzie. Come on, sweetheart.

I looked into the concerned eyes of my obstetrician. "The contractions are almost on top of each other now, Cara."

"Just give her another minute," I begged. Come on Lizzie, come on sweet girl. You can do it, love, I believe in you. I kissed Alex's head and urged his sister with all that I had as they examined me again.

"All right, she's in place. It's happening folks. Cara, give me a push...now!"

I did; I pushed with all the yearning I felt to see my daughter enter the world safely.

"Okay, rest...breathe, get ready...push!"

With this push I gave a deep, guttural groan and seconds later was rewarded with a loud, demanding wail.


	16. The Greatest Peace

I'll walk in the rain by your side, I'll cling to the warmth of your hand

I'll do anything to keep you satisfied and I'll love you more than anybody can

And the wind will whisper your name to me, little birds will sing along in time

Leaves will bow down when you walk by and morning bells will chime

 

I'll be there when you're feeling down to kiss away the tears that you cry

I'll share with you all the happiness I've found, a reflection of the love in your eyes

And I'll sing you the songs of the rainbow, I'll whisper of the joy that is mine

Leaves will bow down when you walk by and morning bells will chime

 

I'll walk in the rain by your side, I'll cling to the warmth of your tiny hand

I'll do anything to help you understand and I'll love you more than anybody can

And the wind will whisper your name to me, little birds will sing along in time

Leaves will bow down when you walk by and morning bells will chime

 

Putting down my guitar, I check on Alex and Lizzie again although they've been fast asleep for the last few minutes. I know I should leave them to it and go find some rest of my own but it's so difficult to tear myself away from them even for short periods of time. Their sweet little faces flush with sleep fill my heart to overflowing and I can't resist reaching out a hand to caress their silky cheeks and finger downy curls. A sound behind me made me turn, only to find my husband standing in the doorway holding out his hand, smiling gently. Laughing under my breath I put my own hand in his and allowed him to pull me from the nursery and along the hall to our room. He'd been in here already, I saw – bedside lamps gave the room a soft, ambient glow and bedcovers were turned back in welcome.

Suddenly overcome with fatigue, it was all I could do to lift my face for his kiss. Sensing my weariness, Ben began undressing me while I stood unmoving in the middle of the room, eyes drooping and a huge yawn stretching my jaw wide. A thought chased lazily around in my head and I murmured sleepily, "I forgot to turn the monitor on."

"I did it earlier," he assured me, peppering my neck and collarbone with small kisses before gliding my nightgown over my head and helping my arms through the sleeves. "I heard you singing – is that a new song?"

"Mm hmm."

"It's beautiful. When on earth did you find time to compose it?"

"When I was feeding the other day." I leaned forward to rest my head against his firm chest. "I think I'll sleep here."

The chest rumbled and shook slightly. "No, my love, you'll sleep much better lying down." And without further ado, he put one arm around my back and the other behind my knees and lifted me, carrying me two large strides to the bed to lay me down onto covers that felt like Heaven wrapped up in cotton wool. I burrowed in and sighed contentedly. "Ti amo," he whispered near my ear.

"I love you too. Now come to bed."

He quickly stripped down to boxers and climbed in beside me, pulling me into his arms seconds before I fell sound asleep.

\---

Somebody somewhere had said how much more work two babies would be, but good Lord, I'd had no idea this is what they meant. Each day was a blur of feedings and nappy changes – thank God Ben had taken some time off to be there to help. Not that he could help with feedings, obviously, but he was great at burping them afterwards and changing wet and soiled nappies, as well as simply hugging them close to his warmth and rocking them off to sleep. Yesterday I'd fallen asleep with Alex at my breast while Ben rocked Lizzie; his swaying and humming had been so calming and we'd had a particularly restless night, so my eyelids fell as heavily as our daughter's. Thankfully I'd been lying on the bed feeding and he was in no danger - but that didn't stop me waking with a start and a heightened sense of panic, fading only when I took in our surroundings.

Just yesterday I felt like I needed to be an octopus, with Alex needing changing, Lizzie requiring a feed, their baths to organize and lunch to prepare as well as a huge pile of washing sitting in the laundry. Added to that Ben was trying to answer emails both work related and from friends and fielding phone calls from his agent who felt there were some events that just couldn't be put aside. I had yet to even look at my own emails and messages from Rick.

Family – both his and mine – were being absolutely wonderful. They visited, of course, but only after checking they wouldn't be interrupting any sleep Ben and I tried to catch up on during the day, and always bringing something nourishing for a meal or two. Wanda and Maria had also been helping with housework, zapping through any chores that had been piling up like laundry or vacuuming and turning aside the effusive thanks I stuttered, both firm about saying as mothers themselves they knew how impossible it was to it all in those early days. I quickly learned to get over my embarrassment and to ask for help when the two of us just hadn't had time or energy for anything other than baby duties.

"You must keep up your fluids, my dear," Wanda told me as she brought a glass of juice to where I was feeding Alex. "Breastfeeding really takes it out of you. Sleep is essential too as it boosts your milk supply as well as general energy levels."

"We're doing pretty well so far," I told her. "They're feeding three-hourly but Ben brings them in to me in bed during the night and changes one while I feed the other, so I don't have to get up."

"They're looking absolutely cherubic; is the nurse happy with Lizzie's weight gain?"

While Alex had been a satisfactory five pounds ten ounces at birth, Lizzie had been just heavy enough to avoid having to spend time in hospital, being smaller at five pounds two ounces.

"She's put on six or seven ounces each week, so they're pleased with her. Alex is putting on slightly more, but then he is a bit of a guzzler." I smiled indulgently down at my son as he suckled greedily.

"Ben was the same," Wanda revealed and we both laughed.

\---

"Darling, you've got some mail from the Royal Variety Charity," Ben announced as he came in the door one Thursday afternoon. "That can only mean one thing."

"They're hitting me up for a donation?" I swapped Lizzie to my other shoulder, rubbing and patting her back. "Here, love, can you see if you can get a burp out of your daughter? She's been holding out on me all day and I hate to think what a gas build up would do to her tiny tummy."

Ben put the mail down and took her, supporting her head carefully as he held her up to his shoulder and patted her back. I had barely lifted my letter when Lizzie gave a very satisfactory belch, making him grin.

"How do you do that Cumbers? You've had the child for all of ten seconds and she burps like a trooper; I was trying for ten minutes." Laughing and shaking my head, I opened the envelope and read the contents. "Oh my God!" I looked across to Ben.

"You've been invited to perform at the Royal Variety Performance," he stated knowingly.

"I've been invited to perform at the Royal Variety Performance," Did I sound as stunned I felt, I wondered? "Holy Mother of Mercy."

"Congratulations my kooky queen," he was beside me, still holding Lizzie, and when I lifted my head gave me a kiss that made my knees tremble and breath come short. "I'm so proud of you."

"Proud enough for another kiss like that one?" I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder for support as he smiled into my eyes and lowered his mouth to mine again. "Mmm...have I ever told you you're a god of kissing?"

"Yes," he smiled. "But I'm happy to audition for the role as many times as you wish."

"Make them all as potent as that one, Seductivebatch, and we'll be living in a shoe with so many children we won't know what to do."

His laughter was almost as intoxicating as his kisses. Only almost, mind. "I'll go and put Lizzie to bed then you can tell me more about these auditions," he winked.

"Happy to, though there may be many, many callbacks before I can make a casting decision."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to look over his shoulder. "Do you have someone else in mind for the role?"

"No," I dimpled, "but I like to keep you guessing."

"That you do, my love. That you do." And shaking his head, he slowly and gently carried Lizzie upstairs.

\---

"Sit here, nonna." I indicated the couch and once she was sitting, put Alex into her arms.

"Ah, Alessandro, dolce bambino." Her hands, well worn by the passing of years, gently smoothed soft cheeks. "He has Benedetto's eyes," she said, "but there is a look of my Alessandro about him."

"If he grows up to be even half as wonderful a man as nonno, I will be very happy."

"I know you said you are not baptizing them into the Church, cara mia, but you will be christening them, si?"

"Si nonna, in a few months."

"Bene, bene."

After fetching Lizzie I sat on the couch next to nonna and we cooed over the babies, speaking to them in Italian.

"Do you remember the ninna nanna your mamma sang to you, Cara?" (lullaby)

"Si."

Nonna began to sing and although her voice was thready and slightly off-key, for me the memories flooded back of sitting at my mother's knee while she brushed my hair with long, even strokes.

 

Fa la ninna, fa la nanna

Nella braccia della mamma

Fa la ninna bel bambin,

Fa la nanna bambin bel,

Fa la ninna, fa la nanna

Nella braccia della mamma.

 

(Go to sleep, go to sleepy

In the arms of your mother,

Go to sleep, lovely child,

Go to sleepy, child so lovely,

Go to sleep, go to sleepy

In the arms of your mother.)

 

Tears fell slowly down my face and when the song was finished, nonna wiped them away. "It's time to let go the pains of the past, cara mia. You have the happiness of the future here in your arms."


	17. Reality Bites

"Ben!" I called again, yelling loudly in order to be heard over our bawling son. Unfortunately, it upset Lizzie in the process so she added her lungful of wailing to the cacophony. Where is that friggin' man? I went to stand at the bottom of the stairs and called up, "Benedict Timothy Carlton..."

Calling his full name alerted him to the urgency of the situation, it seemed, for he appeared at the top of the stairs in double quick time, his long legs making short work of reaching the bottom and me. "Sorry sweetheart..."

I wasn't interested in sorry's, I just needed help. "Would you please take Alex and calm him down – talk about sports or Shakespeare or whatever male bonding thing works; just stop him from screaming at the top of his lungs please, it's driving me crazy. I need to feed Lizzie."

"I have to go in fifteen minutes..."

I gave him a 'what you talkin' about, Willis?' look. "Go where?" At that point I noticed he was smartly dressed in black suit trousers and a black shirt.

He shifted uncomfortably, moving Alex to his shoulder while he joggled him. "The Shakespeare Live thing...it's on the schedule."

The schedule has, over the years of our marriage, made it so we were able to co-ordinate work responsibilities and spend as much time together as possible. It has been a Godsend. But now - who the hell has time to look at the schedule? Not me, that's for bloody sure. I grunted, realising the Shakespeare thing must be one of the immovable, unavoidable things he'd committed to and scheduled well before the twins arrived. Grumbling under my breath I picked Lizzie up, sitting down with her and undoing my nightgown as her cries turned to hungry whimpers. Once she was latched and feeding I sighed again; one noise silenced, at least. Alex, meanwhile, was still going strong in spite of Ben's efforts.

"Take him outside or something will you; if I have to listen to that ruckus much longer I'm going to explode."

"Yes, love." Ben acquiesced very quickly and headed for the back garden – he knew that tone.

As Lizzie fed I revised my plans for the day based on the new knowledge of being left on my own with the twins and could practically feel the scowl cross my face. Dammit, why did he have to be going off today of all days? Just then Ben rushed back inside, put a much quieter Alex in the bassinet and headed for the stairs. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"He threw up on me," Ben gasped as he raced up two at a time, "I need to change my shirt."

I sent Alex a small smile. "Good boy," I whispered and grinned to myself, feeling that Karma had given my husband a little tap on the shoulder for deserting me in my hour of need. Then I heard an unmistakeable sound and yelled up to Ben, "The car's here!"

"Fuck! Shit!"

I quickly covered Lizzie's ears against Ben's muffled oaths. "Language, Benedict!" I scolded a minute later as he bounded downstairs again, hastily buttoning another black shirt and carrying his suit jacket.

His response was automatic. "Sorry love." He bent to hastily kiss Alex then Lizzie and finally me. "I'm sorry I have to go, sweetheart." I hmmphed. "I'll make it up to you later." I hmmphed again. "I love you, my kooky queen." Well, shit, that's dirty pool.

"I love you too." His kiss this time was much less hasty and much more fun; I would happily get lost in those lips. A car horn sounded. "Go," I told him. "Break a leg." I had no idea what his involvement was today – damn new mother brain – so a generic good luck wish should cover it. Once he was gone I looked at my babies, good humour restored. "Well, you two, what shall we get up to today?"

My good mood lasted the hour it took me to shower and dress after leaving both Alex and Lizzie happily gurgling in their bassinets, then change them, dress them and put them in their pram and pack a bag. I'd decided to make the most of the balmy temperature and go for a walk; I hadn't had much opportunity to explore the surrounding area since we'd bought the house and moved about a month before the babies arrived. It was only a slightly longer commute for work compared to the flat and we both wanted a proper house with a garden in which to raise our children.

It lasted as we set out, me enjoying the heat of the sun on my bare skin and the slight breeze lifting tendrils of hair about my face. I smiled and cooed at my children as we ambled along the lane where we lived, enjoying the large established trees lining the footpath and turning at random when I reached a crossroads. Our slow ambulatory pace soothed both babies off to sleep and I sighed contentedly, smiling at any passersby who caught my eye and did the same.

When Maria rang and suggested we meet at a nearby café I happily agreed and stopped briefly to assess my location before turning to head towards the shops. She brought Matteo with her and he stood beside the pram staring at his cousins while Maria and I ordered, sitting outside where there was more space.

"How are Carlo and Gaby liking their new school?" I asked as I stopped Matteo reaching a finger to touch Alex. "Don't wake them, nipote."

"Carlo really likes his teacher and has made a few friends already. Gaby's got a best friend named Stephanie who's been over a couple of times; she seems very nice. She has two mothers."

Maria was pretty liberal and open-minded but I wondered how my strict Catholic brother felt about that. "Does Tony know?" I asked.

"Not yet," she smiled then laughed when I recommended she keep it from him as long as possible. "He's not that bad," she claimed. I raised my brows. "He's softening a little as he gets older," she added, pulling Matteo back before he poked Lizzie's tummy. "Stop that, piccolo."

The tea came and I was able to enjoy half a cup before Alex woke, grizzling hungrily. Lifting him into position, I covered us with a thin cheesecloth wrap to maintain our privacy and continued chatting with Maria.

A few minutes later my good mood was irrevocably ruined.

"Excuse me, madam?" A tap on my shoulder had me turning to see our waiter hovering.

"Yes?"

"Ah...some of our other customers are complaining about you...ah...feeding your baby."

Are you kidding me? Just like that my peevishness of earlier returned. "And what do you expect me to do about it?" I asked. He was only young and I guess I should have gone easy on him, but today was not the day I was in the mood for tolerating ignorance.

"Ah...maybe...stop?" He blushed and shifted his feet.

"No, that isn't going to happen." I exchanged looks with Maria. Matteo sat happily shredding a cheese scone. The waiter looked stunned at my answer and after shuffling his feet a bit more, disappeared back into the dark bowels of the café. Not two minutes later an older gentleman appeared, pronouncing himself to be the owner.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, as you refuse to comply with our request."

What the hell? I stared at him for a full minute, hoping to intimidate him a little, I must admit. "As the owner of this establishment it behoves you to be familiar with all statutes and by-laws pertaining to it, does it not?" He didn't seem happy with my question and blustered a little. Undaunted, I continued. "In which case, you will be aware that under the Equality Act of 2010, it is illegal for anyone to ask a breastfeeding woman to leave a public place such as a café, shop or public transport."

His face turned beet red, more from anger than embarrassment, I suspected.

"My other customers..." he began, but I cut him off.

"I really don't give a damn about your other customers," I fumed. "I am well within my legal rights, I have even draped a cloth over myself so other people who may not wish to see a newborn infant feeding at his mother's breast aren't forced to do so against their will, and I am not, under any circumstances, leaving this café until I am damn well good and ready to. So unless you would like to summon the police and explain to them what the problem is..."

He clamped his mouth shut, turned on his heel and stomped back inside. I was about to say something to Maria when she gave me a weird look and tilted her head to indicate I should look to my left. When I did, I saw two separate people standing on the nearby footpath with iPhones raised, obviously either taking photos or recording video of my little encounter. Muttering words under my breath that would have had me scolding if Ben had said them, my annoyance kicked up a notch.

"Be careful what you say," she whispered to me under guise of handing me a serviette. As Alex had finished, I did myself up and lifted him to my shoulder, distracting myself with trying to burp him while I considered what to do next. Grabbing their phones and tossing them in the rubbish – the phones, not the people – was my first choice, but I knew that wasn't an option. Well, I guess I could – no, I can't. Definitely. Meanwhile Lizzie decided she wanted feeding too and made her desires well known by howling. Maria took Alex while I lifted Lizzie and put her to my other breast, again covering up with the cloth, conscious all the while of our unwelcome audience. "What do you want to do?" Maria asked quietly and I closed my eyes, held my breath and counted to ten.

Before I could answer the sound of screeching tyres caught my attention and I opened my eyes to see a van had pulled up on the other side of the road – a van with OK! written in large letters on the side. A woman got out and headed our way, followed closely by a man holding a very professional looking camera.

Oh shit! That's just great! The paps are here. Some little bugger must have tweeted what was happening and the vultures are swooping. Damn Benedict for going off and leaving me today!


	18. Out of the Pan and Into the Fire

A pros and cons list ran rapidly through my mind. I had two choices, as I saw it: keep calm, make no comment, and hope they'll all get so bored they go away; or answer questions and accept whatever the repercussions are. Okay – three choices; I could also up and run. But it wasn't just me involved – our twins are in this too as well as Maria and Matteo. Do I back down for their sakes? Walk away and live to fight another day, as it were? If this goes public the café owner may end up being fined and I certainly wouldn't be welcome to come back again - but how many other mothers have been given this kind of treatment, I wondered, not just here but in other places too, because they're unaware of their rights? I thought of Ben then looked to Maria to gauge her reaction. She gave me a nod and a wink. Well, alrighty then.

"No photos of the children," I said firmly as the reporter approached me, the photographer not far behind.

"We'll pixel their faces out," she countered.

"All three? I have your word on that?"

"Yes."

I eyeballed the photographer. "And yours?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Also none of my boobs," I added as an afterthought. I felt a small fluttering of my ego when the photographer guy looked disappointed, then reminded myself it was probably only because sex sells and not because he admired my...er...assets. Focus, Cara!

"We'll keep it tasteful," I was assured and figured it was probably the best I was going to get.

"Okay." Just then Alex gave a nice loud burp and we all laughed a little; it helped ease the tension somewhat.

"You want me to go change him?" Maria asked me.

"Can we get some shots first?" The woman introduced herself as Candy from OK! Magazine and the guy was Rufus. When I agreed, Rufus scooted around taking shots from different angles and when he was done Maria grabbed what she needed from my bag and went off to the ladies' room, taking Alex and Matteo with her. By now we had the attention of many of the other café clientele as well as people passing on the street. I spied our waiter hiding behind the counter peeking out occasionally.

"So we picked up tweets that there was a fuss about you breastfeeding here – is that correct?" Candy asked, holding out her portable digital recorder. I gave her a blow-by-blow of what had happened and what my reaction had been. It must have corroborated with the tweets she'd seen because she didn't question any of it. "How did you feel when the café owner asked you to leave?"

"Angry. Affronted. Insulted."

"How did you know about the law, the Equality Act?"

"My mother-in-law told me about it." I saw her eyes widen, so she was obviously aware who my mother-in-law is.

"Wanda Ventham?" she breathed, confirming my assumption.

"Yes."

She sent a look to Rufus like she'd struck gold and I quickly crossed my fingers, hoping Wanda wouldn't mind getting dragged into this.

"How does your husband feel about it?"

"About the law?"

"No," she flicked her perfectly bobbed blonde hair back from her face. "About how you've been treated today."

"He doesn't know yet," I was surprised to have to point that out – could she not see Ben isn't here? She opened her mouth to ask the next question and I forestalled her. "But when he hears, I'm sure he'll agree with my decision."

"He has a lot to say about human rights," Candy pointed out. She's not wrong – Ben has been pretty voluble about the plight of refugees lately. "Will this be something else he speaks publicly about?"

"I don't know." I almost added, 'you'll have to ask him' but stopped myself, in case he didn't want to get embroiled in this particular argument.

Maria came back and put Alex into the pram as Matteo came over to me, patting Lizzie's leg. She'd finished feeding so I asked them to excuse me for a minute while I put my clothes back together; Candy took the opportunity to ask Maria some questions. I toyed with the idea of going in to change Lizzie but figured it may only aggravate the situation with the owner and I didn't want any unpleasantness in front of a whole room full of people. I did take the opportunity to look around and wonder who the customers were who had complained about me breastfeeding but couldn't see anyone likely.

"Will you continue to take a stand against people who refuse mothers their right to breastfeed in public?" Candy asked now.

"Absolutely," I said.

"Do you want the café owner to be punished to the full extent of the law?"

Oh Lord, that's a tricky one. After thinking about it for a minute, rubbing and patting Lizzie's back and feeling relieved when she let out her gas, I finally replied, "I would like him to be aware that his actions today not only violated a law but also unfairly applied a double standard that has been long held in our society, unfortunately."

"In what way?"

"Men can go shirtless all the time and show off their breasts and nipples and no-one thinks twice about it. Women's breasts and nipples are seen uncovered in magazines, nightclubs, on websites, in television and film and are often sexually objectified – yet here is someone who claims that the sight of a breast and nipple being used for the purpose for which it was intended – to suckle and nurture our young – is unseemly and offensive. That is one of the most ridiculous double standards I've ever heard of."

"What do you have to say to the café owner?"

Well, that's not publishable. I thought of an alternative. "That hopefully he will be more aware in future of the rights of his patrons."

"And he makes a lousy cup of coffee," Maria chimed in, and we all laughed.

"Thank you Cara. May we contact you if we have any follow up questions?"

I gave her one of my cards that had Rick's name and contact details and the two of them moved off to speak to the café owner, at which point I thought it an opportune time for us to leave.

"You don't want me to change Lizzie before we go?" Maria asked.

"No, I think it's best we get out of here," I told her, putting Lizzie into the pram and covering the two of them up. "Would you mind going in if I give you money to pay? I really don't feel comfortable going in there."

"It's fine, I've got it."

"Thanks. I'll just walk down the block a little. You want Matteo to come with me?"

So with Matteo holding on to the handle of the pram, we headed past the chemist, bookshop, antique store and estate agents. I was still aware of camera-phones clicking at us and worried about the children's faces showing up online somewhere, so walked faster than I'd originally intended. Maria would just have to catch up.

\---

We'd barely gotten inside our front door when my phone began vibrating.

"It's Rick; do you mind if I take it? He'll be getting some fallout."

Maria happily parked the pram in the lounge; both babies were asleep and I wasn't game to try moving them to their cots, having been caught out that way before. She took Matteo outside to play while I sat on the couch and took my shoes off.

"Hi Rick."

"You can't stay out of trouble even with two babies to look after?" I heard the teasing note in his voice and laughed.

"Apparently not; trouble just seems to find me," I told him. "Have you been contacted by the magazine already?"

"No, Cara – by every online gossip rag and celebrity site there is."

"I'm hardly a celebrity," I sat back, resting my head and shutting my eyes.

"Come on, you've won an Oscar and a Brit award – you're not a nobody. Besides, Benedict is a huge celebrity, so you are by association."

I groaned. "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, which is exactly what I know – so come on, spill the beans." I told him everything that had taken place, at the end of which he asked what I wanted him to do.

"I don't mind taking any extra questions from Candy at OK!," I told him, "but I'm not going to rehash it all for every magazine or station or blog or whatever. I don't want this to become another Travis McArdle episode."

"I doubt that's under our control but I'll do my best to downplay it."

"Thanks."

"How are the twins?"

"Growing like mushrooms, adorable and exhausting. Mostly exhausting."

He laughed. "You don't mean that."

"Oh all right; mostly adorable." I smiled to myself. Suddenly I remembered something. "Um, Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been invited to perform at the Royal Variety Performance."

"Holy shit!"

"That's pretty much what I said," I told him.

\---

Maria stayed until it was time to collect Gaby and Carlo from school, for which I was grateful; just having an experienced mother to talk to was worth its weight in gold. Once she'd gone I called Wanda to warn her in case Candy contacted her.

"I've been out all day, so she may have tried," she said. "Don't worry about it, I'm only too happy to speak out about that particular topic. I'm sorry you had such a horrible experience though. Where was Ben?"

"He's at some Shakespeare thing, I've forgotten what."

"How are my two adorable grandchildren?"

"They're great. Sleeping at the moment, thank goodness, though they're due for a feed soon."

"Cara, you sound exhausted. Have you got anything in the fridge for dinner? Is Ben going to be back?"

"I have no idea if Ben will be home, I forgot to ask him, but I think there's a little leftover of the gnocchi nonna gave us yesterday."

Both babies had been fed and I was just organizing their baths when Ben arrived. He looked just as smartly turned out as when he'd left, though I felt like I'd been through a ringer. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck.

"Darling, how about I bath them and put them to bed while you lay down and have a rest? Then I'll make some dinner and run you a lovely hot bath too."

I moaned. "That sounds like Heaven." Not needing to be further persuaded, I wandered into our room and without even removing any of my clothes, lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Next thing I knew he was waking me with a plate of herb-crusted salmon and salad. "Did you make this? I don't remember seeing salmon in the fridge."

"I rang Manny this morning and asked him to put some aside for me, then stopped on the way home."

Awww. "Darling, really?" I was so touched that he had thought of doing that for me while on his way to work. He'd taken off his jacket and shoes but still looked so handsome in his all black outfit.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here today and that I didn't think to arrange someone to come over and help you. That was remiss of me."

"We're both new at this, love - we can't expect to get it right all the time."

"How was your day?"

"It was...eventful."

His fork paused on its way to his mouth and he quirked a brow at me. "Care to share?" he smiled.

Shaking my head, I smiled back. "I'm too busy devouring this delicious dinner. How about I tell you everything while we're soaking in the tub?"

"You don't want to relax in the bath all by yourself? I could put on a load of laundry..."

Leaning forward, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him close enough to kiss. He tasted of dill and tarragon with a hint of lemon zest. "I appreciate the thought, sweetheart, I really do, but you're joining me in the bath and that's all there is to it."

"Yes, my love – anything you say."

I went back to eating my dinner. "Damn straight, Cumbers – and don't you forget it."


	19. What's the Fuss?

"You gave an interview to a gossip site with the twins in the centre of it all?"

"Darling, I..."

"You know how I feel about maintaining our privacy as much as possible."

"Ben..."

"Especially when it involves our children."

"Benedict..."

"There are all kinds of weirdos out there and I don't want them put at risk – and now their faces will be plastered all over the Internet and God knows where. Hell, Cara, did you even think about that before you...where are you going?"

"Somewhere you're not."

"We haven't finished discussing this."

"We're not 'discussing' it now, Benedict – you're attacking me without the courtesy of listening to what I have to say, so I'll leave you to enjoy the sound of your own voice in peace. Frankly, I've heard quite enough." I clambered out of the bath, spilling water on the floor in the process without giving a damn. "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight so don't even think about speaking to me again until you're ready to apologise." Wrapping a large towel around myself, I left. Fuming, I collected my nightie and the baby monitor from our room, checked briefly on the babies then went downstairs to the guest room, shutting the door firmly behind me.

I couldn't sleep, of course; I tossed and turned, frustrated, angry and hurt, until the twins' next feed, getting up to them as soon as I heard faint whines and hoping Ben hadn't woken. No such luck; he came in just as I finished feeding Lizzie.

"I'll change her."

I handed her over without a word, getting up to fetch Alex and settling back with him in the armchair. Ben padded around in circles joggling Lizzie to burp her then giving her a clean nappy once that was achieved. I kept my eyes on Alex, not wanting to look at Ben – partly because I was still too upset and partly because he looked so damn beautiful in the soft glow of the lamp and my resistance was low where he's concerned. Bloody man.

Once I gave him Alex to be changed I went straight back downstairs, getting into bed and promptly bursting into tears. Burrowing my head into the pillow so I wouldn't be heard, I sobbed out my pain as well as the stress and frustrations of my day. What had happened to the sweet Ben who made me dinner and ran me a bath? I wondered. Why did he turn into the man who ranted at me and wouldn't give me a second to explain what I'd done to safeguard our children as much as I could? Bloody man! Wiping my eyes, I exchanged my now sopping pillow for a dry one and punched it to try to get comfortable, sighing deeply and praying for sleep. I was still staring at the ceiling when the door opened; I sat up slightly on my elbows to look at his silhouette in the moonlight.

"I can't sleep without you there," he murmured.

I know that feeling; nevertheless, I waited, saying nothing. A hand ran through his already dishevelled hair.

"I just want to keep them safe."

And I don't? I bit back the angry retort and lay down again on the pillows, wondering now whether he'd come to give an apology or just excuses.

"May I come in?"

"That depends entirely on what you've come to say." My tone wasn't exactly welcoming.

"I'm sorry I was such a Neanderthal idiot?"

Moving over a fraction in the bed, I patted a spot next to me and he came and sat down, taking my hand in his and weaving his fingers through mine. "I'm sorry, love, I truly am. I jumped down your throat without giving you the chance to explain and I apologise."

"Yes you did. Why?"

He raised our joined hands to kiss my fingers and I could tell he was really thinking about his answer. "I think it was partly protective instinct and partly feeling guilty for leaving you to face that all on your own."

"You don't think I can handle it on my own?"

"I know you can, darling – if anyone can give the paps hell when they deserve it, it's you. But it's inbuilt in my male psyche to protect my family, so I'm kicking myself that I wasn't there."

I heaved a sigh. "Ben..."

"I know, love, it's my caveman tendencies coming out."

I reached my other hand up to caress his cheek. "I've been rather fond of your caveman tendencies in the past."

"I remember," he smiled, kissing my palm. "This time not so much?"

"I can't fault your reasoning – just your methodology."

"Agreed, and I am sorry." He paused briefly. "Can we kiss and make up now? I'm longing to climb in beside you and hold you in my arms." Well, who could resist an invitation like that? Not me. After kissing me thoroughly he clambered in beside me – and discovered the wet pillow. "Darling, you were crying? Oh God, I'm so sorry." He hugged me tight, pressing sweet kisses everywhere and whispering his contrition after each one until I made him stop – the apologies, I mean, not the kisses. Eventually I told him all that had happened at the café and he apologised again...and there may have been a few more kisses...until at last we fell asleep in each other's arms, waking only when a loud piercing wail over the monitor alerted us to the beginning of a new day with twins.

\---

Bees buzzed lazily searching for nectar, a light breeze ruffled the treetops and the sun shone warmly on the face I turned up to it, enjoying the peace and tranquillity. Alex and Lizzie lay on a blanket next to me, gurgling and waving chubby little arms and legs, content for now in their baby world. Ben emerged from the house with a cool drink for us both, handing me mine with a brief kiss then reaching into his pocket.

"Rick," he said, giving me my phone.

"Good morning," I smiled to the gadget, taking a sip of my pineapple juice.

"Sorry to disturb you – it's not a bad time, is it?"

"No, it's fine. What's up?"

"The La Leche League want you to be the face of their new advertising campaign."

"La Leche? Really? Why would they...oh! The café?" Ben and I made it a policy not to look at our own press so I had no idea how much there had been over the incident yesterday.

"Yeah, sorry, I was way too late to stop it going viral. I wouldn't go out in public today if I were you."

"Damn."

"So – La Leche? They're the ones that promote breastfeeding aren't they?"

"Yes," I agreed. "I totally support what they do, but...I'm really not sure I have the time or energy for that kind of thing."

"The lady was aware you've got twins and is happy to do what it takes to make it easy for you – her words."

"When does she need to know by?"

"Within the week."

"Hmm...well, send me whatever information you've got and I'll look at it."

"Okay, will do. Now go back to whatever you were doing."

I smiled as I replied. "Enjoying the sun with a very handsome man and two adorably cheeky rugrats." Rick laughed; Ben kissed me. "Thanks Rick. See you."

The next few hours were some of the most relaxing we'd had since the babies' arrival and I began to think we were getting the hang of this. Unfortunately, Murphy decided to laugh in my face – by four o'clock Alex began to get fretful and restless, mewling at us at an ever-increasing decibel level.

"I've just changed him, so it's not that," Ben said. "Wind?" I gave him a small dose of gripe water but the noise only increased. "When are they due for a feed, love?"

"Not for another hour. Do you think that's it?"

Ben shrugged, holding Alex on his shoulder and walking around while rubbing his back. It didn't seem to be helping. "Shall I take him in the car?" We'd been told that the engine noise and movement was soothing for babies.

"Let me try feeding him first – if that's the problem, it will save you a trip." He gave me Alex, who quietened noticeably as I lifted my shirt and unclasped the nursing bra. When he latched on and began sucking greedily I sighed in relief.

"Shall I bath Lizzie now? That way I can bath Alex when he's done and they can both be put down straight after Lizzie's feed."

"That would be great, thank you darling."

I looked down at Alex as he nursed, gazing deeply into eyes that seemed to inspect me with a knowledge beyond his years, gently caressing his scalp and few brown curls. One small hand was tucked at his side; the other sat on my breast, as if he were laying claim to it. 'My feed', he seemed to say, 'what took you so long?'. "We're just new at this," I whispered to him, "It will get easier as we go along."

It didn't get any easier that night, however, nor the next day nor the one after that. Alex was now demanding very vocally to be fed every two hours, at which time he guzzled gleefully, while Lizzie was still on a three-hourly timetable. With less sleep and less time to do other things during the day, it didn't take long to take a toll on me. After five days I was exhausted; another three and I felt like a zombie and Ben and I were sniping at each other. I'd turned down the La Leche offer and Ben was due to go back to filming the following week - I had no idea how I was going to cope.


	20. A Tactical Retreat

"Hello, love." Ben dropped his things on the hall table as he passed through then flopped in an armchair, groaning loudly. "God, that was a long day!" I just looked at him, not believing what I was hearing. He'd been on set for something like ten hours, at least half of which was probably waiting around while scenes were set up, lighting fixed, his hair and make up touched up, going over lines, chatting with his friends and receiving direction. His day was a walk in the park next to mine. "Where are the kids? Are they asleep? I'd love to spend some time with them."

"If you wake them before their next feed I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

He had the gall to look a little peeved. "I would like to see my children when I come home. I haven't seen them since five this morning, after all."

"Tell me, Benedict, what were your children doing at five this morning?"

"They were about to have a feed," he answered, sounding a little sulky.

"And were you involved in that process?" He shook his head no. "Did you burp them or change them after that feed? Or any of the other six feeds they've had during the course of the day? Was it you that Alex spat up all over at nine? Did you have a clingy Lizzie grizzle and wail at you for an hour while you attempted to shower and get dressed? How often did the phone ring while you were trying to get them to sleep? Did you get the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard, only to be pulled away by a screaming, colicky child who needed bathing and changing then feeding again, then come back two hours later with no energy even to plug it in to a socket? Was it you that spent a large portion of the day settling and tending to said colicky baby and barely had the opportunity to drink a cup of tea, let alone eat a decent meal?"

"I haven't exactly been sitting around on my arse all day; I have been working." I snorted incredulously at his pronouncement. "And I did put them to bed last night so you could rest," he added, "so I've been functioning all day with only five hours of sleep."

"You had more sleep in one night than I get in three," I pointed out acerbically.

"That's not my fault. I can't feed them."

"I didn't say it was your fault; I was merely pointing out a fact."

"One that is hardly helpful." An uneasy silence reigned while I held my breath and counted to ten. "Is there anything for dinner?"

"Yes, Benedict, there's a lamb casserole in the deep freeze. If you're heating some up for yourself, I would rather enjoy a plate as well, if it's not too much bother."

He frowned. "That's twice you've called me Benedict; you usually only do that when I've done something wrong."

"I do, don't I?" I countered with false sweetness.

"What have I done?"

"Do you mean apart from compare your working day to mine and whinge about having three times more sleep than I do? Absolutely nothing!"

"It's not my fault you had a bad day! I can't be blamed for going to work – I put it off as long as I could, but I do have commitments that must be honoured."

"I'm not blaming you for going to work – if I had the choice, I probably would too."

He stared at me, shock on his face. "Are you saying you want to go back to work? And leave our children to be cared for by whom? A stranger?"

I stood up, too frustrated to stay in my chair. "That is not what I'm saying at all – don't put words in my mouth."

Ben stood as well, pointing out in a quiet voice. "You said the words, Cara, not I."

He was right, and I was suddenly tired beyond anything I'd ever imagined would be possible. "Thank you for pointing out the one time I'm wrong without acknowledging the other points on which I'm absolutely right," I told him, equally quiet.

Hearing sounds of distress from upstairs, I walked stiffly past him and headed to the nursery; for the rest of the evening we spoke politely but distantly to each other but I was too tired to care.

\---

Sleep.

Sleep.

"Cara."

Sleep.

"Cara!"

My eyes jerked open as the pungent odour of burning assaulted my nostrils; seconds later the strident wail of the smoke alarm attacked my eardrums as I stood there in a sleep-deprived stupor just staring at the smoke billowing in front of me. Blinking, I stumbled back as Maria reached in front of me to turn off the gas and remove the burning mess from the stove; she walked to the back door, taking the whole pan outside, then came back in and went straight to the broom cupboard. While I puzzled over exactly what she intended to sweep, another wail altogether sounded and I groaned and began heading towards the stairs.

"I'll go," Maria offered as she reached up with the broom handle to push the off button on the alarm. I didn't argue; I couldn't, I was too tired even to do that. Figuring it was getting close to Alex's next feed time anyway, I went to sit in an armchair and get comfortable, only to be reminded of what I had been doing before the kitchen disaster when my stomach gave a loud rumble. Food. That's right, I'd been going to make us some lunch while Maria did...something. Dusted? Laundry? I didn't remember, and there was so much housework piling up it could be anything.

Sighing, I laid my head back.

"Cara."

A hand shook my shoulder but I shrugged it off.

"Cara."

It shook harder and I prised my eyelids open reluctantly, a face swimming into view. "The game is on," I said and smiled, or tried to, at least.

"Cara, wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Properly? What day is it?"

I thought about that, hard. "The one ending in 'day'," I answered.

Maria snorted. "Cara, you need some help."

"Yes. Thank you so much for helping, Maria, I really appreciate it."

"I don't mean just me. Here, eat this."

'This' turned out to be a steak and spinach salad. "Where did this come from?"

"I made it just now. Eat up, you need the iron."

"It's delicious," I told her around a mouthful. It smelled good too, there was some kind of citrus dressing on it, and it took no time at all for me to demolish the lot.

"Cara, you need to get some help with the house; it's too much for you to cope with now Ben's back at work. And I honestly believe you also need to express some milk so someone else can feed the twins and you get more than an hour or two of sleep."

"The nurse suggested that at her last visit but Ben needs sleep too if he's to function at work; I can't ask him to feed them during the night." I wiped my plate with a finger, licking it clean afterwards. The dressing really had been yummy.

"He could do one of them; either the last one at night or first one in the morning so you can lie in - and then have someone else do one during the day while you catch up on sleep."

It wasn't a bad idea and even in my foggy-brained state I knew I had to do something; if I carried on like this I'd be putting the babies in danger. I shuddered, imagining what could happen to them if I fell asleep at the wrong time. "Yes, you're right."

"How about right after this feed I go out and get you a breast pump, then I can do the next one for you?"

"I can get some sleep? Really?" Tears gathered around my ducts and I felt such an amazing sense of relief I knew I'd be a fool not to follow her suggestions. "Thank you."

She hugged me tightly. "It's hard enough with one baby, let alone two. You've got to take care of yourself as well as them."

"I know," I sighed, "It's just...you know."

"Difficult to acknowledge you can't do it all?"

"Something like that."

"We've all been there, cara sorella." (dear sister)

Alex's howl told us he was awake and hungry and by the time he was fed his sister let her feelings be known too. Once their appetites were dealt with I cuddled them while Maria went to the chemist, returning with a breast pump, baby bottles, teats and a steriliser as well as a lot of instructions and advice from the lady who had served her, apparently a mother of five. Using the pump for the first time, I felt very strange and not a little guilty but reminded myself my children would still be getting the goodness of my milk and we could make up the bonding time in some other way. The past few days I had been barely functioning; it was past time to do something to improve that.

"All right, now go to bed," Maria instructed me when we thought the amount I'd expressed was enough for the twins' next feed, but I was suddenly beset with worry.

"What if they won't take the bottle? Or it scares them? They've never been fed by anyone but me; what if..."

"Cara, they'll be fine – and if not, I'll wake you."

"Promise?"

"Yes. Now go."

I went, torn by mixed emotions. It felt as if I were deserting them and I wanted to rush back and hold them, promising I'd never leave them again, while on the other hand, the idea of four hours uninterrupted sleep sounded like Heaven on earth. Tiredness won the battle and I almost fell into bed, barely having enough energy to pull up the covers before my eyes closed.


	21. The Graduate

"I feel like a dairy cow hooked up to those suction cups in the milking shed," I moaned to Wanda as we bathed the twins and discussed expressing. "Honestly, between the two-hourly feeds and expressing, I feel as though I am defined at the moment by a pair of boobs. And not in a fun, sexy way either – oh God, s-sorry." Remembering I was talking to Ben's mother, I stammered and blushed, but she just laughed it off.

"I remember those days – I didn't even feel like a woman, or think that Tim found me desirable any more."

"Exactly!" It was a little weird to be talking about this with my mother-in-law, but she was so down to earth and such an empathetic listener that I felt I could probably say anything and she would just accept it. Ben was very like her in that regard.

"Is Ben still helping you now he's back at work?" she asked as we dried and powdered. I loved the smell of baby powder, especially on my two adorable little bundles, and bent down to blow a raspberry on Lizzie's tummy as she squirmed and wriggled in front of me, my heart lifting when she gave me a gummy smile. Looking to Wanda, I hesitated a little before answering, wary of what I should or shouldn't say and not wanting to be disloyal.

"He can't do as much, obviously, being gone long hours."

She stopped, one hand holding Alex at the ankles as she lifted him to place a nappy. Her eyes seemed even bluer than they had the day we first met as they bore into me, a small frown gathering on her face. "It sounds like you're hedging."

"He tries, he really does," I said. It was true, he did; if he came home in time he would happily bath and change them and spend some time with them, and he had taken to giving them their last feed of the day before putting them to bed so I could get some sleep before being woken at midnight, two and four. "We don't get to see much of each other these days." Between me being up through the night to feed while he slept, then him leaving early in the morning and arriving home in time to let me retire early, we had become like ships passing in the night.

Wanda didn't say anything, but her mouth settled into a straight line I recognised from her son as a sign of displeasure, and I hoped I hadn't said anything that would come back to bite me in the arse.

\---

"That's me done for the day, Cara. I'll see you on Thursday."

"Thank you so much, Sarah. Enjoy your day at Wimbledon tomorrow."

"I will, thanks. Bye."

Sarah was a Godsend.

When she first started she had whirled through the house like a force of nature, achieving more in three days than I had in three weeks or more. Highly recommended by an agency that guaranteed complete privacy and discretion, she did the job so thoroughly the house practically sparkled afterwards. I had immediately rung the agency praising her skills and arranged for her to come twice a week for the foreseeable future, then breathed a huge sigh of relief. In her mid- to late-forties, she had called me Mrs Cumberbatch to begin with, but I was uncomfortable with that and insisted we be on a first name basis.

I had just put both babies into their bouncinettes when the front door opened and Ben came in, followed by Wanda and Tim.

"Hello darling." He smiled and gave me a kiss before I greeted my in-laws.

Tim gravitated straight over to where Alex and Lizzie lay, cooing and talking nonsense to them, while Wanda astounded me by saying, "We've come to look after the little ones so you two can get out of the house together somewhere."

"Oh!" I blinked, stunned – and even more so when Ben's arms wrapped around me.

"I haven't had the chance to take my gorgeous wife out for dinner in months," he said, "so unless you have other plans for this evening, my love...?"

Other plans? Does falling asleep in front of the six o'clock news count?

"No, I...I don't...have any plans."

Ben's seductive smile distracted me from something Wanda said, so I tore my gaze away – reluctantly – and asked her to repeat it.

"You do have enough milk expressed for their next feed, don't you?"

"Yes, there's plenty; I earned my patch of grass today."

She laughed, understanding my cow reference, and patting my arm, encouraged me to go upstairs and change.

"Wear something sexy," Ben whispered softly in my ear before letting me go and I stumbled a little. Am I in the Twilight Zone? Who is this man and what has he done with my husband?

Twenty minutes later I inspected myself in the mirror, tugging at my dress and wondering if it could be classified as 'sexy'. It certainly showed off enough leg – surely this used to be longer on me? I had by now lost a fair portion of my baby weight but was still a little rounder in the hips and thighs – and boobs, of course – so the dress was clingier than it used to be. I gave up worrying and sighed; it was the best I could do at such short notice. Brushing my hair and leaving it loose around my shoulders, I hastily applied mascara and lip gloss – trying to think back to the last time I'd used them and failing – and decided I was as ready as I was going to be. When I got back downstairs and found Tim and Wanda cuddling a baby each I almost changed my mind. How could I go out and abandon them? I've never been farther away from them than upstairs in our room; what on earth made me think for even a second that I could enjoy myself while they...oh...oh my.

I was severely distracted by Ben coming back into the room, having changed into a pair of dark trousers that clung to muscular thighs and a white dress shirt stretched taut across his chest. I blinked again and decided Alex and Lizzie would be perfectly fine with their grandparents just as my husband stopped at the sight of me, his face lighting up. After pulling on his jacket, his aftershave teased my nostrils when he stepped close, held my upper arms and drew me in for a kiss that left me incoherent. "You look beautiful," he murmured, brushing his lips over my forehead. "Let's get out of here before I decide to send the babies home with mum and dad so I can have you all to myself upstairs."

Holy catfish, Batman! I like this incarnation of Ben; can I keep him?

He took me to Le Gavroche in Mayfair, a French restaurant that boasted two Michelin stars. We'd been here only once before, shortly after we were married, but I remembered it fondly - not least because the maître d'hôtel had found us a secluded table in the tasteful yet unpretentious dining room and we hadn't had to worry about intrusions. I hoped it would be the same this evening; I wanted to explore more of this man who'd shown up in Ben's body. In every sense of the word.

We discussed the menu for a few minutes then once our order had been taken he floored me with a quietly spoken question.

"Darling, what needs to happen in order for you to get back to recording?"

"I...Ben, I'm...I didn't mean what I said about wanting to go to work."

"I know, but you do have all those other artists wanting to write and record with you. Now that Alex and Lizzie are a little older, it's time we plan for you to get back into the studio or on tour; whatever it is you want to do next."

"Are you serious?"

"As soon as filming on this project is finished my time will be more flexible, so I can help out more with parenting duties." His eyes, gold flecks glittering in the soft candlelight, looked earnestly into mine. "I want you to be happy, darling, and I know you haven't been this past while - so please, tell me what needs to be done and I'll see to it."

Dio mio! Swallowing the huge lump in my throat and fervently hoping my mascara was as waterproof as the labelling claimed, I blinked back threatening tears. "Can I think about it and get back to you?"

"Of course," he smiled, reaching for my hand and squeezing gently.

For the rest of the evening he was sweet, charming and attentive, and I began to feel more like Cara again and less like merely a baby-feeding factory. Arriving back at the house, I had a few moments alone with Wanda while the men went off to the kitchen.

"Thank you so much," I told her, "for looking after the babies as well as whatever you said to Ben."

She shook her head. "I didn't say anything to him."

"But surely..."

"I was planning to, but haven't yet had the chance; then he rang me this morning and asked if we would babysit so he could take you out."

I opened my mouth to speak then closed it again, incapable of formulating a response.

\---

Unable to resist one last check on the babies, I entered our bedroom a few minutes after Ben to find candles illuminating the room and soft music playing quietly from somewhere. He stood beside the bed, shirt buttons undone and hair looking as if he'd just run his hand through it.

"'Mrs Robinson, you're trying to seduce me,'" I smiled.

He prowled slowly toward me, stopping so near I had to tilt my head back to look at his face.

"'Would you like me to seduce you?'" A hand swept aside the hair on my shoulder and warm lips sent shivers through me from my neck down, making me gasp. "I've been wanting to all evening," he murmured, shifting his assault to the other side and one hand to my backside. "You look so fucking sexy in that dress I was tempted to rip it off you."

"Well," I gulped, "I'm glad you didn't do that in the restaurant. Though, if we're talking ripping things off...this shirt would be high on my list." As I said the words I slid it down his arms, only to find the sleeves stuck at his wrists. He struggled with them for a minute before I burst into soft laughter. "God, Ben, you always forget the cufflinks!"

He finally got them off, a rueful grin on his face. "So much for my seduction technique. I think I'm a little rusty."

Taking his head between my hands, I told him, "You're doing pretty great so far," then kissed him. He pulled me so close I could feel his heart beating, pounding in unison with my own. "The zip's on the side," I whispered, lifting my arm to give him easier access then stepping out of the dress as it dropped to the floor.

"God, you're beautiful." His heated gaze swept my entire body then came back to my face. "I love you so much, Cara. I want to be a good husband for you."

My heart melted as I recognised his words as an apology, though his actions all night had been one too. "I know, Ben. Ti amo, mio caro marito."

His kiss was molten and only seconds passed before I burned for him. Without breaking contact, he removed my underwear then lifted me and carried me to our bed, placing me gently in the middle. I lay panting and aching as he took off the rest of his clothes, welcoming him with open arms only a moment later.


	22. Sing for Your Supper

"Maybe this bit goes here...and then this one snaps into here...no, that's not it." I looked at Lizzie, sucking cheerfully on her fingers in her bouncinette. "Help me out here, sweetie – we girls have to stick together. Shall I try this piece over here?" She squealed, kicking her legs madly, so I took that as a yes. "Dammit, that doesn't work either." I looked at the new stroller in exasperation. "It looked so easy when the guy did it in the shop, didn't it Lizzie?"

"Cara?" Ben called from the lounge. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I'm fine," I called back, lying through my teeth but determined not to give in and look like a helpless female. Hell, it had seemed straightforward when the salesman was demonstrating how to assemble and disassemble the latest model double stroller. "There can't possibly be many combinations I haven't tried, can there love?" I asked my almost-five-month old daughter; she gave me a grin and dribbled down her front, which I automatically wiped with the tissue I always had with me. "All right, let's try one more time. This goes over here, then this piece comes down here and...oh crap!" I was almost ready to kick the damn thing. "Tell you what, Lizzie, why don't we just take the pram instead? We'll tell Daddy you prefer it to the stroller..."

"He won't believe you," a deep voice offered from the doorway behind me – a very amused deep voice.

I jumped and whirled around. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Burglarbrunch, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

He threw me a lazy grin while Alex waggled arms and legs around in an apparent show of male solidarity. "Sweetheart, are you having trouble with the new stroller?"

"No ... Yes." His grin widened and I put my hands on my hips. "Well, why do they have to make it so darned complicated? Seriously, it's like trying to play a guitar with one hand tied behind your back – isn't it Lizzie? Back me up here." She just drooled again. I wiped.

Alex was given into my care while Ben surveyed the offending vehicle – then, much to my chagrin, had it assembled and locked in place in less than a minute. I huffed. Loudly. "I must have had it partly put together for you," I said, adding, "You know, like loosening the lid on a jar."

Ben merely lifted an eyebrow at me as he took Alex and sat him in the stroller, doing up the harness, then lifted Lizzie out of the bouncinette and did the same. Once finished he turned to me with a smile, putting his arms around me and lowering his head for a very satisfactory kiss. "You," he said, adding more kisses in between words, "are the most ... adorable ... creature ... on the planet." This time my huff was ... well, more of a hum, really.

"You're not so bad yourself, Cumberbum." I moved my hands to fondle said bum.

"Don't grope my bum in front of our children," he admonished me laughingly.

"Why not?" I asked. "It's not the first time. Besides, they're going to have to get used to it – I don't plan on stopping any time soon."

His low growl against my neck sent tingles along my entire skeleton and I wondered briefly if the twins were tired enough to take a nap any time soon ... like, right about now.

"We have to go," Ben murmured against my ear, creating more tingles. "Nonna and the others are waiting for us." Damn, I'd forgotten we were meeting with my family in the park. "Raincheck?" he said, smiling into my eyes; dreamily, I agreed, sighing as I took charge of the stroller while Ben carried the baby bag.

\---

\---

Slowly I'd eased my way back into singing; as promised, Ben worked shorter and more flexible hours and shared the parenting as much as he could. It wasn't an uncommon sight now for us all to be together at his work place or mine and those around us got used to the presence of the twins and their 'nanny' of the day. It didn't stop us having days that turned into disasters or those where we would both collapse into bed by nine, and we still relied on family help as well as Sarah's continued expertise around the house, but the four of us were happy together and the children were thriving, and that was all that mattered.

I had recorded my next duet with Ed and he'd released it as a single off his new album. We'd written it together one stormy, wet afternoon with Alex and Lizzie gurgling and squealing merrily nearby as they bounced side by side in their Jolly Jumpers, then recorded it three days later. It felt strange to be back in a studio but picking up my guitar again was like a reunion with an old and dear friend and I made a mental note to sing and play for the children much more often. We'd made a video for the new song and within a day it had over a million views.

Ed encouraged me to be more involved with social media and the label assigned me a PR guru, so suddenly I found myself on Twitter and Facebook. Many of the posts were written for me, giving details of appearances, radio interviews, and so on, but occasionally I would write a few brief lines about what I was doing, especially answering questions about the motivations or stories behind my lyrics.

I was also rehearsing hard for the Royal Variety Performance, which was now only two weeks away. As I didn't have any singles in the charts other than the duet, I decided to sing a new song that I'd written. What was freaking me out, though, was deciding what to wear; many female performers wore long gowns or something very glitzy, but that look didn't suit having a guitar strung over your shoulder nor the style of my song. Let's face it, I wouldn't be shaking it around like Beyoncè. Knowing I needed expert help, I turned to Toby and he came up with the perfect outfit; black tuxedo jacket and pants with a simple silk tee underneath. With my hair up and some heels, I'd be ready to face the Royals.

\---

"Is a tuxedo meant to look that sexy?" Ben queried.

"Sexy? Is it slutty? Do I look too slutty? I didn't think it was too bad, though Toby did tailor the trousers fairly tight on my ... is it my wide mother hips? Hell, I knew I should have ... Oh God, I don't want to look inappropriate in front of ... Shit! Is it the shoes? I love these shoes! Or the top? There's hardly any cleavage ... should I change it?"

His hands landed on my shoulders. "Darling, it's fine. You look perfect and definitely not inappropriate; I just meant you look very sexy to me."

"You did? I do? We are?" Lord, that didn't even make sense to me. Oh God.

"Are you nervous about meeting the Duke and Duchess?"

"No ... Yes ... Terrified. What if I say the wrong thing, Cumbers? What if I call them Wills and Kate? What if I swear? Oh, shit!" I clapped a hand to my mouth in horror. "See?"

"Darling ..."

"Or what if I ..."

His fingers over my lips stopped whatever nonsense I'd been about to come out with, thank goodness, then were soon replaced by my God of Kissing's most powerful weapons. I duly surrendered.

"Sweetheart, you do not have wide mother hips, your outfit looks classy and elegant, and you will be fine when you meet them; perhaps if you think you're going to go a little ... "

"Crazy?"

"... kooky ... it might help to picture me kissing you calm?"

"You want me to melt in a puddle of lust and longing in front of high ranking members of the Royal family?" He smiled at me. "That doesn't help, Smoulderdash."

He laughed and kissed me again. "I love your kookiness, wench."

"Somebody has to," I muttered, which only made him laugh again.

The front doorbell rang. "That'll be mum and dad," Ben said, and went off to answer it.

I turned to the full length mirror to critically assess my outfit again. The slim fitting trousers made my legs look longer, I thought, helped along by the height of the heels. Once more I admired the shoes Toby had picked out for me; knowing my character, he'd told me a plain black heel would be too bland and had given me these bone and black cuties with a fine black strap and small side bow. I adored them. The colour matched the silk tee under my single button, shawl collared tuxedo jacket, tailored impeccably at shoulders, waist and hips. My hair was in a low messy knot and my make up had been professionally applied. I felt ... as ready as I was ever going to. Sighing, I picked up my clutch and headed downstairs.

\---

 

The Eventim Apollo in Hammersmith has a capacity of only around three and a half thousand, so it's certainly not the largest crowd I've ever performed to, but with the Cambridges sitting in the Royal Box, it's certainly the most daunting. As my introductory applause dies down I take a deep breath, remind myself Ben is in the audience somewhere and play the opening chords.

 

Love of mine, some day you will die

But I'll be close behind

I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white

Just our hands clasped so tight

Waiting for the hint of a spark

 

If Heaven and Hell decide

That they both are satisfied

Illuminate the 'No' on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you

When your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark

 

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule

I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black

And I held my tongue as she told me,

"Hon, fear is the heart of love."

So I never went back

 

If Heaven and Hell decide

That they both are satisfied

Illuminate the 'No' on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you

When your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark

 

You and me have seen everything to see

From Bangkok to Calgary

And the soles of your shoes are all worn down

The time for sleep is now

It's nothing to cry about

'Cause we'll hold each other soon

In the blackest of rooms

 

If Heaven and Hell decide

That they both are satisfied

Illuminate the 'No' on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you

When your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark

I'll follow you into the dark

 

As applause flows around and over me I turn to curtsy to the Royal Box, relieved to see both Wills and Kate are smiling and clapping – shit, no, I mean the Duke and Duchess. Oh hell! Slightly shakier, I bow to the remainder of the audience then take my guitar and walk off stage.


	23. When in Rome

Approximately a year later ...

The sun was like a warm blanket, caressing my bare shoulders and arms as I stood in front of the fountain. When I closed my eyes to savour its embrace, the sounds of everyone around me were muted as my mind took me back to the last time I stood before this structure; I was nine years old and visiting Rome with my family on what would turn out to be our last holiday together. Our last almost anything together. Papa was rambling about aqueducts and Travertine stone, mama was gazing around the piazza as if looking for someone or something in particular, while my brothers were squabbling and daring each other to reach in and remove a coin. And me? I was turning in slow circles, unable to absorb everything fast enough, deeply enough, affected by sights, sounds, smells, the very air itself. It was the first time I found unfamiliar notes and half-melodies strumming through my brain and by the time that day was over I had written my first tune, hiding it away in my journal to share with nonno later.

I opened my eyes again; the palazzo, triumphal arch and Oceanus himself were all in shadow from nearby buildings but the tritons and horses were glowing. Rays of sun caught tumbling drops of recycled water, turning them into twinkling diamonds and I smiled, quickly pulling a coin from my pocket, turning and tossing it, happy in the knowledge my wish would go to a worthy charity as my phone shrilled in my bag.

"Rick, hi."

"Where the hell are you?"

"Fontana di Trevi."

"Do you think you could haul your sightseeing butt over here sometime soon? We've got a rehearsal to do and it's almost two o'clock."

"Shit, sorry, I didn't realise it had gotten so late." I began weaving my way through the crowd of tourists. "What time is Josh going to be there?" Tonight I was opening for Josh Groban as well as doing a few songs with him, including a duet we'd recorded last year for his Stages album.

"Three thirty."

Damn. "Okay, I'm hauling butt; I'll be there as soon as I can." Bum, bugger, blast! I muttered "excuse me please" and "mi scusa, per favore" every few inches through the piazza until I reached Via Poli and managed to catch a taxi to where we were performing, an open air concert venue on Via Alessandro Poerio. It was only a ten-minute drive so Rick wasn't too cross with me when I showed and besides, the sound tech guys were still tweaking with their gear, letting me off the hook somewhat. I confirmed the set list and chatted for a few minutes until they were ready to go, then we did a complete run-through – luckily with no hitches.

Distracted talking to Rick, I didn't pay much attention to Josh's band and the orchestra setting up and when Josh arrived, we went through our three numbers then I left him to do his own rehearsing and returned to the hotel. Checking the time and staring pensively at my phone as I rode the lift, I tried to calculate my chances of being able to speak to my children without having to talk to my husband.

I was still mad at him.

\---

The previous day

I was packing for Italy when Ben wandered nonchalantly into our bedroom, plonked himself down on the bed beside my half-filled suitcase and in a casual tone asked, "What would you say if I told you I'd bought a new house?"

My initial reaction was to chuckle. "That's a silly hypothesis to give me, darling; try a different one."

"Why is it silly?"

"Because (a) why would we need another house? And (2) that's the kind of decision we make together and you wouldn't do that without talking to me about it. Give me something else." I moved to the wardrobe to get the shoes for my outfits, coming back and packing them into boxes before stowing them in my case.

"We could do with a bit more yard space," Ben surprised me by saying, "and we've got to think of good schools for Alex and Lizzie."

"They're only eighteen months old, love, there's plenty of time, but we can talk about it when I get back if you like and I'll start looking at a few places. Have you got a particular area in mind?" When no reply was forthcoming I stopped wondering if there was anything I'd forgotten to pack and really looked at him; dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt that sported a stain on the front from an encounter between Alex and a pot of yoghurt, it was the strange look on his face that caught my attention.

He looked guilty.

"Ben?" He lowered his lids, not meeting my gaze, and I stilled, my stomach dropping. "Please tell me you haven't actually bought a house," I said quietly. He wriggled uncomfortably while I continued to stare at him, feeling first incredulous then shifting speedily through hurt – though I was pretty sure I'd come back to that one – to downright furious. He didn't confirm it verbally; he didn't need to – his body language said it all. Hands clenched, I sucked in short, sharp breaths as a wave of heat crept from my neck up. If it had been physically possible, there would have been steam coming out of my ears. Opening my mouth to speak, I thought better of it before a sound was made, closed my mouth again – clenching my jaw somewhat – and stomped my foot. It was perhaps a little childish, but I desperately needed to do something physical to express my fury and hitting the carpeted floor seemed preferable to hitting him. Whirling, I strode out the door and down the stairs before he could call after me. Nonna was in the lounge with the twins; she glanced up as I stormed through but seeing the look on my face, said nothing, merely watching me as I went out the front door, not quite slamming it behind me.

\---

Present day

Fingers crossed that nonna would answer the phone, I counted ten rings before it was picked up. "Hello?" Thank God! I chatted with her for a while then spoke to each child briefly, getting a few common words like 'biscuit' and 'nonna' and telling them how much I missed them.

Eventually Lizzie said, "Dada talk."

"No, it's fine piccolo, I don't need..."

"It's me."

Shit. "Hi."

"How are you? How's Rome?"

Hearing his voice, I realised I had let my anger go, but what I had in exchange was far worse; I was deeply hurt by what he'd done – no, by what he hadn't done. "It's...great...beautiful as always." The words felt as if I'd ground them out past a lump the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.

"Good." There was empty air for a moment. "Well...have a great show, darling, I know you'll be amazing as always. The kids are great, nonna's taking good care of us. We all miss you and we...we love you."

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry. "Thanks. I'll...I'll call again tomorrow. Goodnight." The first tear fell as my thumb end the red icon.

Two hours later, having plastered on a little more makeup than usual, I was onstage in the tux I'd worn for the Royals, bantering with the audience in a mixture of English and Italian and singing some songs from my new album as well as a few old favourites. I'd felt emotionally drained since talking with Ben but as usual, being in front of an audience bolstered my spirits. Once my set was over I went backstage to change into a gown then joined Josh half an hour into his performance. 

Our first song was the duet we'd recorded for his album of Broadway tunes; All I Ask of You from 'Phantom of the Opera', which had gotten great reviews since being released as a single

Our first song was the duet we'd recorded for his album of Broadway tunes; All I Ask of You from 'Phantom of the Opera', which had gotten great reviews since being released as a single. Next we shared a beautiful Italian love ballad, E ti prometterò and after that I waited backstage until returning for our last number, Perhaps Love, which I had written with Josh's voice in mind.

 

Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm.

It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm.

And in those times of trouble when you are most alone,

The memory of love will bring you home.

 

Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door.

It invites you to come closer; it wants to show you more.

And even if you lose yourself and don't know what to do,

The memory of love will see you through.

 

Oh, love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel.

For some a way of living, for some a way to feel.

And some say love is holding on and some say letting go.

And some say love is everything and some say they don't know.

 

Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of change.

Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains.

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

My memories of love will be of you.

 

And some say love is holding on and some say letting go.

And some say love is everything and some say they don't know.

Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of change.

Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains.

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

My memories of love will be of you.

 

When it was all over everyone assembled in the backstage lounge as usual, ebullient and on a high from the wonderful audience response. I was accepting a drink from someone in Josh's band when I realised it was a familiar face and stilled, gasping in surprise and staring as if I'd seen a ghost.

"Gidday Caz."


	24. Men Are From Mars

"Jake?"

"In the flesh."

"What are...when...do the guys...?"

He seemed to understand my scattered thoughts, answering the last question first. "Yes, Rick and Marcus know I'm here, we talked before rehearsals this afternoon."

I looked at the glass of wine he'd given me then brought it to my mouth and emptied it in one go, coughing a little afterwards. Shaking my head in disbelief, I mumbled, "You look..."

"...different," he finished for me. "Yeah. You went right past me a couple of times earlier and I could tell you didn't recognise me." He took my empty glass, replacing it with a full one. I vaguely noticed there were other people in the room and that they were having their own conversations.

He did look different; his hair had been buzz cut at the sides with longer waves on top and was now a light blonde which contrasted with the amazing tan he'd gotten from somewhere. He'd bulked up some too and he looked...well, let's just say the years have been kind. I coughed again and tried to speak. "Jake...I...wow..."

"You look beautiful Cara, as always. And you're a mum now; congratulations."

"Thanks. They're...adorable."

He laughed and it lit up his face. His strong square jaw had a sprinkling of scruff and his eyes sparkled...God, was he always this... "Yeah, you kinda have to say that, but I'm sure - with your genes - they're pretty great." I swallowed and nodded. "How's...your husband?"

A stab of pain pierced me. "He's...fine." The less we talk about him the better. "How long have you been with Josh? I recorded with him last year and I don't recall..."

Jake ran a hand over his jaw. "No, I started working for him last October. I've been living in California for a while now, before that I was travelling all over the States." Okay, that explains the tan and the hot surfer dude look...whoa, where did that come from? Jake is not hot, Jake is not hot, Jake is...oh, who am I kidding? Yes, he is. Is that wrong? I can appreciate an attractive looking man, can't I? It's just the same as liking a good painting or a nice meal, or...

"Cara?" Josh's voice brought me back to earth from wherever I'd drifted off to and I jumped a little as I turned to him.

"Josh! Yes! Ah...do you know Jake? Oh, shit, of course...sorry...um...okay, that was...never mind." Shut up, woman!

Josh gave me a sidelong glance as his brows drew together quizzically. Jake, who is used to my lunacy, just grinned. "A few of us are going to go somewhere to eat and I was wondering if you'd care to come along?"

"Yes, of course, I'd love to. Um..." I looked down at my floor length gown then at Josh's tux. "We're changing first, right?"

He laughed and agreed, so I changed back into the summer dress I'd worn to the theatre, checked that everyone in my band had also been invited and re-joined Josh and his group. We weren't far from the Colosseum so restaurants weren't hard to find and before long we arrived at a small wine bar on Via Ostilia, where we were welcomed warmly and turned out to be the only patrons. As everyone was taking their seats my arm was grabbed rather firmly by Rick and steered so that I ended up between he and Josh, with Jake on the opposite side of the table and about four bodies down.

I frowned at Rick and muttered, "What are you doing?"

"Keeping the two of you far apart for my sanity's sake," he hissed in my ear, shooting me a glare I recognised as his protective scowl.

"What are you talking about? We don't need to be kept apart."

"Oh yes you do. You've had a face on you like a kicked puppy since you got on the plane yesterday, so I'm guessing all is not well in Cumberbatchland and I haven't as yet managed to suss out Jake's current state of heart vis-à-vis you and he, so for now I don't want you together." I gave a huff, subdued because of everyone else so close. "And don't pout at me, missy, it won't work."

"Pout? I don't pout."

"You so do."

"I...oh, all right, I do." I didn't care for his smirk of victory but let it slide. "What did he tell you at rehearsal? What's he doing here?"

Rick shrugged as the waiter came to take our drink order. "Hasn't said much, just that he's been in California for a couple of years, lives at the beach, has done a lot of session and recording work with various artists." Yes, called it about the surfing! "Anyway, what's up with you and Benedict? Need a man's point of view?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's...kind of a mess, I guess."

He squeezed my hand gently. "I'm here if you need me, you know that."

I squeezed back, more grateful than I could express for his support and friendship. "I know. Thanks, Rick."

The rest of the evening passed convivially with delicious pasta rivalling even my nonna's cooking, fine wines chosen by the owner to complement our meals, and the kind of genial good humour you find in a group of people with similar passions. We finally left the restaurant after midnight and caught taxis back to the hotel.

"We haven't had a chance to catch up much," Jake's voice said from behind me in the lobby. I turned. "But I'll see you tomorrow at rehearsals."

Rick was beside me in a flash. "Yes, we'll see you then, buddy. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Jake," I smiled.

He gave Rick a searching look then nodded at me and went off to the lift, chatting with two other band members.

As I readied for bed I couldn't decide whether to be glad or not that I was alone with my thoughts.

\---

In spite of our late night I woke at my usual time, too accustomed to an early start with young children to be able to sleep in, so decided to go for a walk and find a café in which to enjoy a coffee and some people watching. The streets were already choked with honking traffic, the piazzas awash with art students catching the morning light glinting off Baroque and Renaissance architecture. I sat at an outdoor table in the Piazza della Rotonda watching early bird tourists take photographs of the Pantheon, mulling over what was going on with Ben and what Jake's reappearance in my life could possibly mean.

A shadow fell over my table.

"Mi scusi, sei Cara de Luca?"

Surprised, I looked up to find two people smiling at me and brandishing a camera.

"Si, lo sono," I acknowledged. They were fans, it turned out, and wanted a selfie. We took that and chatted; they were thrilled to discover I was here for another two nights and wanted to know where to get tickets. By the time they left another couple had seen us and came over for a selfie, so the remainder of my coffee went cold. I ordered another.

"Want some company?"

I had to look a long way up at the new shadow beside my table, shielding my eyes from the sun. "Jake."

"Good morning. Would you prefer I left you to your thoughts?"

Oh Lord, no. "They could do with being pushed aside for a while." Crap, did I say that out loud? "Um...I mean...please sit, by all means."

"I have to warn you though," he laughed, "there appears to be a group of camera-happy people heading your way."

He was right, four English tourists appeared a moment later wanting to take photos with me, so Jake kindly took the shots while I smiled obligingly.

"Is there something in the air this morning?" I asked once they'd gone. "I was sitting near the Trevi Fountain for an hour yesterday without getting recognised once and today I can't even finish a cup of coffee – that was the third lot of selfies I've been asked for all ready."

"Should have brought a disguise," he laughed, handing over the sunglasses that had been sitting on his head. "Here, try these." I put them on gratefully as the waiter showed up to take his order. They seemed to work; I got no more interruptions over the next hour as Jake regaled me with anecdotes from his experiences in the past few years. We were indulging in some cake when my phone rang.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rick sounded upset.

"Eating pignolata." Frowning, I was puzzled by his tone.

"Yes, but who with?"

Ah.

"Cara, someone tweeted a shot of you and Jake having your little tête-à-tête. Do you think you could break up the party before the paps get wind of it and photos of you two are everywhere?"

"Rick, calm down; we're at a café drinking coffee and eating pastries, for God's sake, not some..."

"I'm serious. Unless making Benedict jealous is your plan, of course."

Oh crap. "Okay, fine."

"I'll see you back here in a few minutes, yes?"

Groaning a reply, I ended the call and stood up, fishing cash out of my purse as Jake also rose to his feet. "Sorry Jake, Rick's..."

"Looking after your interests," he interrupted, a thin smile on his face. "It's okay, I understand. Keep the sunnies so you don't get stopped on the way back."

"Thanks."

"I'll see you at rehearsal."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"It's probably just as well," a firm, warm hand touched mine, giving a light squeeze. "If we spend too much time together, I'll be in danger of falling in love with you all over again."

Oh, double crap with whipped cream on top.


	25. Just In Case

Rick pounced as soon as I entered the lobby. "Did you see any paparazzi?" I shook my head. "Good. Still, we need to keep a close eye. I suggest the first thing you do when you reach your room is to call Benedict and tell him Jake's here."

"What? Why?" He gave me a wry look and I grunted, acknowledging his point. "Yes, okay. Full disclosure." Remembering Jake's parting words, I felt uneasy and told Rick what he'd said.

"Shit." He ran a hand over his bare head. "Okay, I wouldn't advise telling that to your husband thousands of miles away in England."

"Well, duh," I snorted. I may be kooky but I'm not an idiot.

"What the hell were you thinking going out alone in public with him anyway? You could have woken me and I'd have come with you."

"I didn't go with him, he just showed up; it's hardly my fault. Jeez, Rick, I..."

Rick stopped walking and grabbed my arm. "What do you mean he just showed up?"

"We didn't go together; I was at the café and he appeared."

"Is that so?" Eyes squinting in thought, another hand ran over his scalp. For some reason he reminded me of the yellow peanut M&M – maybe I was still hungry. "Well, that's...how did he know where you were?"

The question hadn't occurred to me. "I just assumed he'd come across me by chance – you know, that he was out for coffee as well."

"And just happened to go to the exact same spot you did?"

"It's a popular tourist area, Rick, it's not like I was in a back alleyway or anything."

"Yeah; I'm sure it was just a coincidence." Then why didn't he sound convinced?

He left me at my room door and I went in, throwing my purse and Jake's sunnies on the desk and bringing up Ben's name on my phone. I wasn't looking forward to making this call; it would be awkward at the best of times, let alone when we had tension between us all ready.

He answered after only two rings. "Hello."

"Hi. Do you have a minute? I need to tell you something." Good start. This will be okay after all.

"Hold on, let me just..." I heard a door closing softly. "Okay."

Deep breath, Cara. Here goes. "Jake's here." Oh God.

"Here, as in...?"

"He's working for Josh, part of his band. Since October, apparently...I mean, he certainly wasn't in June when Josh and I recorded...well, I would have told you if...anyway, he wasn't then, but he is now, which is what I'm calling to tell you. Obviously." Smooth, real smooth. Great to see I haven't lost my touch.

Ten seconds of silence felt like fifty. "Did you know he'd be there before you left?"

"No, I only found out last night. He looks different; I didn't recognise him."

There was more silence, the uncomfortable kind. Finally, "I see. And you're telling me now because...?"

"Because...there's a possibility...Rick seems to think...just in case there were paps...it was only coffee – well, and cake – really good cake - at a café...nothing bad...I mean, what's wrong with friends having coffee?"

All this heavy silence wasn't good for my heart, which was pounding thunderously in my chest. The noise of blood rushing through my veins was so loud in my ears I thought for a minute it had begun to rain. In my room.

"Nothing at all."

"Pardon?"

"There's nothing at all wrong with two friends having coffee together. That's all that's happened, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course." Christ, the last thing I need is for Ben to get all jealous on me like the last time Jake was in our lives. Although...Caveman Ben was pretty hot...no, Cara, bad girl.

"All right then. Jake's in Rome too. You've told me. Anything else I should know?"

Oh, for goodness' sake; this is exactly the kind of attitude I was hoping to avoid. Bloody men and their stupid bloody pride...I took a deep breath and said...nothing, letting the silence draw out in a way that spoke volumes. Eventually, when you could have heard an ant sneeze, I told him in a quietly restrained voice, "No, Benedict, nothing at all."

The most aggravating aspect of the whole situation was that while I wanted to be still furious at him and all his silly machismo bullshit, in reality I was missing him terribly.

\---

Rehearsals were such a crowded affair that it was easy to make sure Jake and I were never alone at any point and I stuck with Rick or Marcus for the rest of the afternoon. Reaching my dressing room that night, however, I found a posy of yellow roses on my dresser and a note from Jake wishing me luck for the show.

"Yellow roses are okay aren't they? I mean, yellow stands for friendship, right?" I asked Rick, feeling relieved. "So, you know, yellow's good; it's not like he sent red roses or anything." As usual Rick took nothing to chance and looked it up online.

"Joy, gladness, friendship, delight, promise of a new beginning, welcome back, remember me, jealousy and 'I care'," he quoted, frowning.

"Well, perhaps he's glad we're all together again, welcoming us back, as it were," I suggested hopefully. Rick grunted, sounding unconvinced again and not overly impressed.

Oh Lord, please don't let this turn into a thing.

I was particularly glad that night to be on stage and lose myself in my music and the support of the crowd

I was particularly glad that night to be on stage and lose myself in my music and the support of the crowd. I spoke about my grandparents coming from Lanuvio, about nonno teaching me guitar and how even to this day I loved to help my nonna baking, and the memories I had of visiting Italy as a child. I talked about how my world had changed when I became a mother and I sang an Italian lullaby, inviting the audience to join in. But all of that only made me miss my husband and babies all the more, so when it came to the last song in my set, one I performed with just my guitar and I alone in the spotlight, the words felt more poignant and personal than ever.

 

Got myself into some trouble tonight

Guess I'm just feeling blue

It's been so long since I've seen your face

There's distance between me and you

 

That voice you showed me is not the one I know

I must be strung out on what I do

Don't hang up again

There's nothing else I know how to do

 

But I burn for you

What am I gonna do?

Burn for you

 

I guess it feels like you're always alone

And I feel that way too

It's so hard to explain to you

Please understand what I do

 

I burn for you

What am I gonna do?

I burn for you

Burn for you

 

Took my trouble to a bar tonight

For another point of view

But there's nothing new

I'm missing you

 

I burn for you

What am I gonna do?

I burn for you

Burn for you

\---

A light breeze stirred the tops of the trees lining the villa's driveway, rustling like paper. Although much of the equipment had been removed from the stage, the ambient lighting still glowed on the structure behind and fairy lights twinkled from summer-rich branches, giving everything a magical air.

A small crowd lingered near the exit so Josh and I spent some time with our fans, thanking them for attending and posing for photos, signing programmes, CD covers and tee shirts. I occasionally had to interpret for Josh when his Italian wasn't up to the task and admired the easy and genuinely friendly manner he adopted with everyone. In the face of effusive compliments, I tended to slip back to my 'jackrabbit on crack' nervous way of talking, much as I liked to think I'd outgrown it. While I was talking with a Canadian tourist, a strange feeling came over me and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. When I handed back the programme I'd signed I noticed goose bumps along both arms and a small shiver ran through me.

What the hell is that? It's like something out of a suspense novel, almost as if...

I looked around me, seeing only friendly faces, but couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

"Cara, we really should get moving." Rick was at my side so I thanked those fans still hovering and posed for final photos. As we began to move off, Josh about four paces away to my left, Rick on my right, I felt the chill again and looked around, noticing well apart from the crowd moving away from us, one woman stood utterly still under a tree, staring in our direction. In my direction.

My feet stopped of their own accord, the breath tightening in my lungs as if held captive. I blinked, raking my gaze over her, noting the elegant cut of her clothing and stylish waves of her salt and pepper hair. But mostly I noticed her face and eyes, because they were an almost exact replica of my own.


	26. It's Always You

I was aware of voices around me, though it was if they were speaking underwater; I heard Rick say my name a few times and ask if I was all right then after a moment he swore profusely under his breath.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Josh asked quietly.

"It's kind of messy," Rick told him in the same tone, then spoke to me again. "Cara, are you okay, love? What do you want to do?"

I was too fragile to answer, neither limbs nor vocal chords capable of moving; all I could do was stare at the woman under the tree. Emotions battered me, leaving me a sapling standing alone in the face of a tornado. Rage I recognised, the same anger I had felt when my father had shown up in London; pain was there too, scratching and tearing at my insides, leaving me bleeding in its wake. But the one that hit me like a bolt of lightning was longing, and I was a ten-year-old child again, yearning for my mother to take me in her arms to comfort me, to tell me she loved me and everything was going to be all right.

Those other brown eyes were still locked on mine, eyes with crow's feet at their edges, eyes shadowed by whatever hand life had dealt them over the years. I recognised the tip of the nose, the shell of the ears, the fullness of the bottom lip. I recognised her, and I recognised myself.

Mama.

I wanted to hug her and slap her at the same time. To yell at her and plead with her. To ask her why and tell her I didn't care what her reasons were. Contradictions swam in my brain while the force of the emotional tide made me tremble and gasp.

"Cara, talk to me, tell me what you want me to do. Should I ask her..."

Before Rick could take more than one step toward her, she turned abruptly and was gone, weaving her way through the dwindling crowd exiting the grounds, lost in the bodies as surely as she'd been lost to me for nearly twenty-five years. At that point my knees gave way and I sank almost to the ground before Rick caught me; a second later Josh was helping him and they both pulled me to my feet.

Voices seemed to sound from far away and everything became a blur of impressions as I relived in my mind every nanosecond that my mother and I had stood staring at each other. "I think she's in a kind of shock," I registered Rick saying, then somehow ended up back at the hotel changed into pyjamas and tucked into bed, curled into the foetal position. Concerned voices came and went, Rick's the only constant as the night wore on while I drifted in limbo, alone in my cocoon of numbness. When natural light began to replace artificial, I knew day had arrived, but didn't yet feel capable of re-joining the real world.

"Cara, I'm here sweetheart." Blankets were thrown back then replaced as a familiar voice pierced my fog and a warm body climbed in behind me. "Everything will be all right, love."

Turning instinctively, I wrapped myself in him, my head finding a haven tucked beneath his chin, his arms cradling me in comfort. He was here and everything, somehow, would be all right. Giving a deeply heartfelt sigh, I finally closed my eyes and allowed my mind to rest.

\---

My first awareness was of a steady drumbeat as the fog began to dissipate, allowing morsels of clarity to invade my consciousness. Hauling open my eyelids I blinked, vision blurred by the recent turmoil and, more prosaically, because I wasn't wearing my glasses. I recognised the pale pink patch before me though, from its scent.

"I'm so glad you're here," I told him, my voice a weakened whisper.

Arms tightened around me as his quiet rumble sounded from above my head. "I love you so much, my kooky queen. I missed you."

"I missed you too." My heart wanted to say so much more. Pulling back to allow me to look at his face, I ran my fingers over his dear, familiar features, lingering my gaze as if re-learning them. When our eyes finally met I gasped at the intensity of emotion his held.

"Darling, I'm so sorry about...what happened. How are you feeling?"

Warring emotions still jumbled around inside me but they were manageable now; I could control them rather than the other way around. "Drained," I admitted honestly.

"Is there anything you need?"

I noted the faint shadows under his eyes, the pinch of tiredness and stress he got around his mouth, and shook my head then nuzzled closer into his neck. "Just you."

"Do you want to talk about...your mother?"

And in the time it took for me to register one beat of his heart beneath my head, a tidal wave of grief rose from my toes through my legs, hips, torso and neck, spilling in a gush of sobs and cries, soaking his shirt and a portion of the bed. Throughout the tempest he held me, rubbing my back and smoothing my hair, murmuring sounds of solace that had no words. When the storm abated he wiped my face with his handkerchief and said deadpan, "So that's a 'no' then?" I half-sobbed, half-laughed and watched his lips pull into a small smile. "That's my girl." He sounded proud, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "It can wait."

A knock sounded at the door; Ben kissed me again then got up to answer and I heard the questioning of a familiar voice. "Come see for yourself," Ben invited him in.

"You had me worried," Rick admonished as he hugged me tight, peering intently at my face. "How are you?"

I drew a deep breath and gave the only answer I could. "I'm fine."

Rick snorted, Ben merely smiled. "You're not bloody fine, but you're a damn sight better than you were last night, so for that I'm truly thankful."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"Well, it was...understandable, given the circumstances." I looked down at the bed, avoiding his gaze, and nodded. "I hate to have to ask, but I need to let Josh know...are you going to be able to do the show tonight?"

Instantly visions of the woman under the tree swam in my head and I felt my heart palpitate. I looked to Ben. "Can you stay? Who's looking after the kids?"

"Ella is staying and helping nonna and my folks were going to call in too. I can stay as long as you need me."

I would need his strength, I knew. "Please," I reached out a hand to him; he took it and his thumb rubbed gentle circles over my palm. To Rick I said, "Tell Josh I can do the show."

"Are you sure?" they both said, then looked at each other and laughed.

"A nice hot shower and I'll be fine," I assured them, none too sure of the truth of my claim but hopeful.

"And some rest," Rick insisted, "and food...and rehydration."

"Bossy much?" I muttered, only to have them both laugh again.

"Now I know for sure you're feeling better," Rick grinned. "I'll go tell Josh the good news. We won't worry about a rehearsal today, so rest up until it's time to head over for the show; I'll come and get you."

"Thanks Rick."

When he'd gone Ben came to sit beside me on the bed, curling his fingers through mine. "Are you sure you're up to doing a show, sweetheart? I don't want you to push yourself too much."

"I don't want to let Josh down and besides, I think I need the distraction," I told him softly. "Will you come backstage with me?"

"Of course." Placing a hand either side of my head, he leaned close, his lips a warm whisper hovering so close to mine I could almost taste them. I wanted to taste them. "Darling, I know we need to talk, but...I want you to know I'm sorry for how we left things on the phone the other day." I could only nod and return the kiss he gave me. "Shall I order room service while you have your shower?"

I had a better idea. "Join me in the shower and we'll order afterwards."

His beautiful smile lifted my spirits.

\---

"Are you sure you're up to performing, Cara?" It felt like a record was on constant repeat; Ben, Rick, Marcus and Josh had all asked me the same thing and now Jake was getting in on the act. I knew they all asked out of genuine concern but it was becoming wearing on my nerves.

"I'm fine," I ground out, a little uneasy at finding him in my dressing room as I stepped in. A second later I felt a presence behind me. "Jake, you remember my husband Ben."

Jake looked startled and a flash of something else flickered over his face before he smoothed it into normalcy again. I noticed he didn't offer his hand and glanced over my shoulder. Ben is the sweetest, goofiest teddy bear there is but he can also do dark and threatening – I call it his Khan look – and he was doing it now, sending a shiver through me. One hand clenched at his side while the other curled around my waist, pulling me tightly to him as he gave Jake a brief nod, neither of them speaking.

Letting the uneasy silence linger for only a moment or two, I sighed and said, "Jake, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready." And I most definitely didn't need any more drama; feeling as fragile as glass already, I knew it wouldn't take much to dismantle the thin veneer of confidence I'd fought to build up in order to do this performance.

"Of course, Caz, whatever you need," he said pointedly, shooting me a smile and Ben a scowl as he walked out, giving him a wide berth.

I turned to Ben, relaxing into his embrace as his arms enfolded me, resting my head on his chest, closing my eyes as I gave another sigh. We didn't speak – I wasn't sure what to say, if truth be told, my mind completely incapable of anything other than basic functions and the next step in the process of getting ready to sing. Tonight I knew I was desperately in need of energy – from Ben, initially, to get me up on stage, and then the incredible boost that performing live usually gave me.

Lord, please let me get through this intact.


	27. From the Frying Pan to the Fire

"Grazie mille, grazie."

So far it was going well; we'd done Hold Back the River, Begin Again, Like I'm Gonna Lose You and I Knew Love and the energy from the audience made me feel rejuvenated. I set my guitar down against the stool nearby and turned back to the audience, the drum and cello leading me in as the rest of the musicians clicked their fingers. I did so too, encouraging the audience to join me as I began a set of songs from my latest album, a collection of jazz greats from the forties and fifties, beginning with the classic, Fever.

 

Never know how much I love you

Never know how much I care

When you put your arms around me

I get a fever that's so hard to bear

 

You give me fever when you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever in the morning

Fever all through the night

 

After that one, still upbeat, we swung into Sinatra's Time After Time.

 

Time after time I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

So lucky to be the one you run to see

In the evening when the day is through

 

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

And time after time you'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

 

Slowing down the tempo a little, our third jazz number came from the film Road to Zanzibar with Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour.

 

Whenever it's early twilight

I watch 'til a star breaks through

Funny, it's not a star I see

It's always you

 

Whenever I roam through roses

And lately I often do

Funny, it's not a rose I touch

It's always you

 

If a breeze caresses me

It's really you strolling by

If I hear a melody

It's merely the way you sigh

 

Wherever you are you're near me

You dare me to be untrue

Funny, each time I fall in love

It's always you

 

After more chat, and buoyed by the audience's response, I finished with The Way You Love Me and I Will Follow You into the Dark before taking my bows and heading off-stage directly into my husband's arms.

"Darling, you come alive on that stage. Every time I see you perform I'm reminded how easily you enchanted me the night we met."

About to answer, I was interrupted by Jake's voice. "Cara is a natural born performer; she should be touring the world with audiences at her feet, not tied down and kept on a leash."

Gasping loudly, I turned to look at the mutinous scowl on his face as he stopped next to us on his way onstage. I could feel Ben stiffening with insult and fury beside me and blocked him with my body in fear he'd lash out. Tempted though I was to lay in to Jake myself, I couldn't deprive Josh of his lead guitarist seconds before a show.

Keeping my voice low, I nevertheless let my anger show. "I'm hardly kept on a leash, Jake, so keep your gross exaggerations to yourself. And for your information, I wouldn't trade my family for any amount of audience adoration – they are the most precious things in my life." He blushed but didn't seem terribly chastened.

"Perhaps you'd better get on stage, Jake," Rick's voice came from nearby, quietly vehement, and once Jake had gone, still muttering under his breath and casting dark looks towards Ben, Rick turned to us. "Come on." We followed him to the dressing room, me leading Ben by the hand in case he harboured thoughts of going after Jake.

Once safely inside, with the door shut, I realised I'd been holding my breath. "What the hell? Has he lost his mind? Rick..."

Rick's hands ran over his head. "I don't know what the hell that was all about, but I'll talk to him."

"Thank God it's our last show," I muttered, still aware of Ben beside me, vibrating with barely suppressed anger.

"You're okay though?" I nodded and Rick left. Truth to tell, I was shaking a little, reeling from the unexpected drama. I looked at Ben as his chest expanded with a deep, ragged breath, his flushed face and steely eyes further evidence of his feelings.

"Has he been like that the whole time?" he asked through teeth clenched enough to tighten his jaw.

"No," I assured him, laying one hand over the heart I felt pounding beneath his blue shirt. "I don't know what brought that on, but...no, he hasn't." My other hand moved to cup a cheek. "Rick will sort it out and there's only a few hours to go till we'll be heading home anyway. Don't make an issue of it, Ben, please...I don't know that I can take much more..."

Immediately his face softened and his arms wrapped around me. "I'm sorry, love – but he'd better stay well away from you, or I'll...well, he'd better keep away, is all."

In spite of the added stress Jake's little outburst had brought, my heart gave a soft flutter at Ben's protective behaviour. It wasn't quite Caveman Ben, but it made me feel good anyway. Giving him a kiss, I pulled away. "I need to get changed." I still had to go back onstage for my songs with Josh – a stage where Jake was playing.

"You're going back out there?" he frowned, which only deepened at my nod. "And he's playing?" I nodded again, removing my outfit. A low growl caught my attention as I walked to the makeshift wardrobe where my gown hung, a slight chill flicking over skin not covered by the bra and undies that were all I was wearing. "How long until you have to be on stage?" He suddenly loomed beside me, his voice a throaty purr.

I looked in his eyes and swallowed, mesmerised by the glow and intensity of his gaze. "Um...about fifteen minutes, I guess...maybe twenty." The glow flared. Holy Hades! Is he thinking...? The roughness on his chin abraded my cheek then my neck as warm breath whispered over my hair and ear, making me gasp. Firm, determined lips created a trail of quivering flesh as they left no part of my face untouched, while my legs turned to jelly. Strong hands around my waist held me safe as I murmured incoherently under his assault and struggled to recall something...something important.

"That's plenty of time," he whispered into my ear, sending shivers trembling along my nerve endings.

Oh God.

"Ben, we can't..."

"Yes we can." The depth of his voice sent more shivers skittering through me.

"We really shouldn't..."

"We really should."

"I don't..."

His mouth halted its assault on my senses but his hands were a different story. "You don't want to?"

I could end this; he would stop now if I asked him to, if I said no. But Hell, who am I kidding; when have I ever been able to say no to this man?

"I don't think the door's locked," I whispered, watching his lips turn up in the sexiest damn smile before he was at the door in two strides, locking it firmly then turning back to my side.

"Problem solved, wench. Now where was I? Oh yes." And with one twist of nimble fingers the clasp of my bra was open and the garment tossed to a nearby chair. "God, you are so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes now as dark as a rainforest, and I sighed softly before losing myself in them.

\---

And some say love is holding on and some say letting go.

And some say love is everything and some say they don't know.

Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of change.

Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains.

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

My memories of love will be of you.

 

The applause was thunderous and Josh held my fingers, our arms outstretched, as we took our bows.

"Cara de Luca, ladies and gentlemen." The tribute rose again and I took another bow, accepted a kiss on the cheek from Josh, then left the stage, waving to the front three rows on the right, who had been particularly enthusiastic in their applause.

"You're amazing," Ben whispered into my ear as he escorted me back to the dressing room.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're pretty amazing yourself."

"You haven't seen me perform in a while."

I smiled and ran my hand over his jaw. "I wasn't talking about on screen or stage," I purred, "You performed rather impressively right here in this room just a while ago." I giggled when he blushed. "And you're still so cute when you blush!"

"Wench!" he spluttered, then laughed along with me. We were still chuckling when a knock sounded at the dressing room door.

"Come in," I called, expecting it to be Rick. Instead it was one of the venue staff – Bertoldo, I think.

In Italian he said, "La signorina de Luca, there is a lady who wishes to speak with you. She gives her name as Signora Sophia Abelló."

The laughter died in my throat as the breath in my lungs evacuated. Sophia was my mother's name. Surely she wouldn't...she couldn't...

"Where is the lady now?" Ben asked as I struggled to think. His warm hand took mine and I clutched it for all I was worth.

"Near the eastern balustrades."

Ben looked at me, brushing hair off my face and cupping my cheek in his large palm. I was sure the mix of anger, hurt, fear and longing churning inside me showed in my eyes as I looked back at him, my mind a turmoil. "Do you want to see her, darling?"

Shit.

Such a simple question with such a complex answer.

Did I?

Did I want to know how a mother could abandon her three children without a qualm? Could leave them to a father who neglected them and drank away the remainder of his life? Did I want to ask how she had the gall to show up now, almost twenty-five years later, and ask to see me as if she had a right?

Fuck, yes.


	28. Mamma Mia

"Cara, la mia bambina."

Her voice immediately conjured memories of bedtime stories, lullabies while she brushed my waist length hair, and learning how to make pasta and grow herbs for the delicious sauces she would conjure on the stove. I closed my eyes briefly then thrust those visions away, replacing them with others of crying myself to sleep for months after she left, of feeling lost, hurt and confused.

"La signora Abelló, questo è il mio marito Benedetto," I introduced Ben, seeing her face fall when I addressed her so formally. They shook hands and then I asked that we speak in English.

"Cara, I..."

"Why are you here?" I interrupted, not caring that I sounded so abrupt as to be almost rude.

"To see you."

"Seeing me hasn't been a priority for you since you walked out on my brothers and I twenty-four years ago; what's the big deal now? You've shelled out cash for two Josh Groban concerts too – am I supposed to be impressed you've gone to so much trouble?"

Ben's hand squeezed my arm; I wasn't sure if he was offering me support or telling me I was being rather harsh. I chose to assume the former.

My mother lifted her chin slightly, her eyes meeting mine. "I'm not here to impress you," she said quietly.

"Good," I snapped, "because if you were I'd have to disappoint you."

"Sweetheart," Ben breathed softly.

I sighed and rubbed the spot between my eyes where an ache was developing. "Well, you've seen me," I said in a less antagonistic tone, then left the conversational ball in her court. As on the night before, I could tell her clothes were good quality; her hair and makeup were perfect, her nails obviously manicured. She hadn't gone without, it seemed, while my grandparents struggled to raise three abandoned children. It had taken me until my mid-teens to come to the realisation that nonna and nonno had often gone without even small luxuries so Tony, Marco and I would have food on the table and clothes on our backs.

"I know it's been hard..."

I interrupted again; this was beginning to become a habit. "You know how hard it was?" This time I made no effort at all to keep the contempt from my voice. "Signora, you don't know a damned thing." The gall of her! To come here and say she...after what...how dare she... Unwilling to stay and listen to what I was sure would be a crock of shit, I tore myself from Ben's arms and stormed out of the room. I didn't have a plan in mind of where to go, I just knew I had to get out of there and find somewhere quiet. Ben discovered me five minutes later.

"Darling, what are you doing in the men's room?"

"I couldn't go in the ladies," I huffed.

"Why not?" He walked carefully toward me; I could tell he was trying to judge how pissed I was and how safe it was to get close. He obviously deemed it fairly secure, for he put his arms around me and kissed my forehead.

"She could have just followed me in."

I felt his body shaking with laughter but like a petulant child, resisted joining in, then I spoke with my face buried in his chest. "You're going to try to talk me into going back there and listening to her, aren't you?"

"I think you will always regret it if you don't." His finger lifted my chin, tilting my head back so he could look into my face. "You will always wonder why she left and why she didn't come back until now. Listening to what she has to say may not bring you happiness, darling, but it will bring you closure."

Tears couldn't be stopped, but he was there to kiss them away then wipe my face with a clean, pressed hanky.

"Dammit, Cumbers," I muttered.

"I know, sweetheart; I love you too."

As it turned out, we met up again at our hotel room, at Ben's suggestion, as it offered greater privacy and less risk of the media getting wind of something going on.

"Niccolo and I...we were not a love match, we...I married to please my family and he seemed like a nice enough man. I told myself love would come in time, and it did for him, but I...I never felt the same way. I was not happy but I was ready to honour my marriage vows. Then after Marco was born, I began to suffer from depression and it only became worse over the years. I did my best to hide it from Niccolo and you children – you must believe I loved you dearly, Cara, you and your brothers – but it..."

"Did you get help? Professional help, I mean," I interrupted.

She hung her head. "No, I...your father was a proud man, cara mia, if our friends and neighbours...I could not do that to him."

I stayed silent and waited for her to continue.

"When...when I began having...harmful thoughts...I..."

I couldn't stay quiet at that admission; I gasped. "Harmful? To us?"

"No, no! I would never...I could never...please, you must understand, you were the only joyous things in my life..."

"Self-harm then?"

"Si," she nodded, her familiar features flushed and torn. The handkerchief she held in her hands was crumpled into a heap and I noted her fingers trembled. Mine did the same, even clasped in Ben's comforting grip.

"Did you...," I could barely bring myself to ask, "Did you ever...act...on those thoughts?" Surely not; surely if our mother had tried to harm herself we would have known, even so young. Wouldn't we?

Her reply rocked me to my core.

"Once."

Ben's arm came around my waist to hold me when I swayed, a roaring in my ears and black spots appearing in front of my eyes. "Breathe, Cara." He gently pressed my head down between my knees and I took gasping breaths until the oxygen returned to my brain and the waves of dizziness left me. When I sat up again she stood before me, offering a glass of water. I took it, hesitantly, with a nod of thanks. My hands shook more now as I tried to wrap my head around the thought that my mother had once tried to end her life.

"What...what happened?" My voice was raspy and weak.

She sat back down, smoothing the skirt of her dress over crossed legs and I noticed her shaking. She wouldn't meet our eyes. "I had some sleeping pills...I took a lot of them one day after you had all gone to school. Your aunt Sophia found me and when she could not rouse me, she called an ambulance."

"Dio mio." Ben's touch seemed to be the only thing keeping me sane.

"I begged Sophia not to tell Niccolo or anyone else in the family; I told her I would get help."

"And did you?"

She shook her head. "I was so ashamed." We both drew ragged breaths. "It was only a few days after that I met Lorenzo, quite by chance, and I...I fell instantly in love." She looked at me and even in my state I could recognise anguish and pain on her face. "It was the first time I had been happy in twelve years, cara mia, and I...I was so distraught over being such a bad mother. I knew that if I stayed with Niccolo, as much as I adored you and your brothers, there was a chance the depression would only worsen and I was terrified I might endanger you somehow, or...or try again to..." She didn't need to elaborate. "I truly thought you would be better off without me, that your papa and grandparents would take good care of you...I know it seems selfish, and it was, but I...I believed it was the best thing to do."

It was so much to process. My mind reeled and as much as I wanted to point out she could have stayed and gotten professional help, I knew it had been a different time and that my father had been very proud, not one to air dirty laundry in public. Even after she'd first gone, he had told friends and neighbours she was visiting relatives on an extended vacation, until the time came when he gave up all pretence and drowned himself in alcohol to forget she'd deserted him.

"I...I don't know what to say."

"I don't expect you to forgive me, or even perhaps to understand, but I...I just needed you to know." She rose and Ben stood also, looking at me until I got unsteadily to my feet. "Grazie, mia figlia, for your time and for the chance to...to see you again and meet your husband." We took the few steps to the door. "It gives me great joy to see you're happy and I'm...so proud..." She bit her lip, seemingly unable to say any more, and turned to go. "Addio, cara mia."

We bid a solemn farewell and I stood at the door, Ben's warm strength right behind me, and watched her walk towards the lift. She seemed to shake herself, her shoulders straightening and her head lifting, each step taking her out of my life again. She had only a short wait before the lift arrived, but as the bell dinged and she began to leave, I called out.

"Wait!"


	29. As Time Goes By

When the doors of the lift slowly opened again I don't know which of the three of us was most astonished at my next words.

"Would you...like to see pictures of your...grandchildren?"

I have no idea why those words came out of my mouth and I didn't stop to work it out, so tired - after decades - of thinking and wondering, analysing and over-analysing. Perhaps it was time to listen to my gut instinct, rather than my head. And it was telling me to reach out to this woman, that perhaps it was time to stop punishing her, and myself, to let go of recriminations and try some forgiveness instead. I wondered briefly if, given the same set of circumstances, I would have acted the same way; it was impossible to tell, but I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that a mother will do anything to protect her children. I would give my life, if necessary, to save Alex and Lizzie, and just maybe my mother had indeed thought she was saving us, in her own way.

Ben gasped and squeezed my hand so hard I thought I might lose the use of it, my mother paled then blushed then paled again before stammering, "Si, I would...like that very much."

So we all went back into the room and while Ben made tea I told her all about Tony and Maria, showing her photos I had on my camera from Matteo's last birthday. I told her how creative Gaby was, how good Carlo was at tinkering with engines and anything mechanical, how much like Tony Matteo was turning out to be – methodical and smart. I showed her shots of Marco and Ella at their engagement party then Ben and I showed some of the seemingly hundreds of pictures we had of Alex and Lizzie, from the time they were born until now.

"Lizzie's just as beautiful and lively as her mother," Ben told her proudly, smiling at me.

"Alex is a lovable imp," I smiled back, "Just like Ben as a little boy, according to Wanda."

We talked for hours, waxing lyrical about our children as every parent does when presented with an attentive audience, until finally I let slip a jaw-stretching yawn and we realised it was almost three in the morning.

"We have to leave for the airport at eight," Ben pointed out quietly. We got to our feet and once again my mother and I stood and stared at each other. Continuing to go with my gut, I asked her for contact details, tucking the piece of paper away safely in my handbag straight away, not knowing if in the future I would be brave enough to do anything with it.

"Will you tell your brothers?" she asked, and I recognised the uncertainty and sadness in her eyes.

"Yes," I assured her. "Then it will be up to them..."

"Of course," she nodded.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sophia," Ben filled an awkward silence as he opened the door then went to call the lift for her and gave us a moment to ourselves.

"Grazie, cara mia, grazie mille. For seeing me, for...the gift of your time and..." her eyes became noticeably moist, "for sharing...your family...with me."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, completely at a loss how to say goodbye to her. It was too soon to promise anything might happen in the future, but I couldn't just bid her an impersonal farewell. "I...I'm glad you came," I told her, amazed to find it was true.

She lifted a hand to my cheek, holding it for mere seconds before withdrawing again. "Ciao, Cara."

"Ciao," I echoed, still feeling her soft caress on my face.

She gave Ben her hand; he raised it to his lips then helped her into the lift, giving a small wave as the doors closed.

Coming back to the room and closing the door quietly, my husband offered me his arms. We simply stood for minutes without saying a word as I drew strength from his presence, my mind reeling with all that had happened and all that was now possible.

"You didn't tell her about your father," Ben murmured softly, rubbing my back.

"No, I...no." No, I hadn't told her about the drama that led to us going to live with nonno and nonna, about his reappearance a few years ago and subsequent death. There was time enough for that in the future, if we had one. Of that, time would tell.

\---

"Helloooo, I'm home!"

High-pitched squeals from my left alerted me to their whereabouts; then came the sound of small feet pattering over timbre floors. I knelt and waited; seconds later my two curly-tops appeared, huge smiles on their faces, arms reaching for me.

"Mama!" 

I swooped them both into my embrace, smothering kisses over faces and necks while they squealed louder, sticky hands clinging to me. Lizzie made fish faces and smacked me on the lips with her pursed mouth, Alex buried his head in my shoulder and sucked his thumb.

"I missed you so much!" I told them, hugging them so tight they wriggled and squealed again.

"Benvenuto a casa, Cara."

I smiled up at nonna then back to my little cherubs. "I think you've grown while I've been gone," I told them, managing one last cuddle before Alex's attention was diverted and he plodded back to the kitchen/dining area, his sister following along behind as always. I got up and hugged nonna then we followed the twins.

"Have you eaten, cara mia? We have tortellini boscaiola left from pranzo." Ah; now I knew what the sticky substance was on my clothes – creamy mushroom sauce.

"They fed us on the plane."

"Bah, what is that they call food on an airplane? Do you tell me it is as good as your nonna's pasta, huh?"

"No, nonna, nothing is as wonderful as your cooking." I lifted Lizzie into my arms as I watched Alex play with a toy truck. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I joined nonna at the stove. "Where's Ella?"

"She and Marco went to an appointment...something to do with the wedding. They will be back in an hour or two. Is Benedetto not with you?"

"He had to call in to Sunnymarch; he'll be home soon." When I told her I'd rung and invited Tony, Maria and the children for a full family dinner she looked at me shrewdly for a few seconds but said nothing, merely agreeing there would be enough food for everyone.

We played in the garden for a while, then when the twins went down for an afternoon nap and nonna went off for a rest, I walked wearily into our bedroom and took off the clothes I'd travelled in, now worse for wear. After a quick shower and change, I lay on our bed and closed my eyes as images swirled around in my head. Before long the familiar scents of home – Ben's cologne, food and dirt and small child, jasmine and clematis perfume drifting in the window – lulled me into slumber.

When I woke I was lying on my side, one hand tucked under my head and the other around my middle, clasped firmly in a much larger hand and laced with long, elegant fingers. Warm breath whispered over my neck and shoulder and my spine was tinglingly aware of the heat emanating from a body curled up close behind mine.

At a slight movement, the arm around my waist tightened and soft lips touched my cheek. "Hey," his voice rumbled. "Marco and Ella got back just as I arrived, so I told them about dinner."

"Thanks."

"Did you say anything to nonna?"

I shook my head then turned to face him, running a hand through his hair then down to rest on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat reassuring me. "I think she knows something's up, though."

"Not much gets past her," he grinned and I couldn't help but laugh in agreement.

"I'll go help with dinner."

"I'll see to the kids when they wake. Are you okay, sweetheart? Are you ready for this?"

I sighed and looked inward, feeling strangely lighter and more optimistic than I could ever have expected. "I wasn't ready for you to walk into my life all those years ago, Cumbers, and look how that turned out, so I guess I can cope with the return of an estranged mother."

After a boisterous family dinner, Ben took Carlo and Gaby with him to help bath Alex, Lizzie and Matteo. Tony and Maria, Marco and Ella, nonna and I remained in the dining room with our coffee and freshly made cannoli.

"So guys..." I began nervously; they all looked at me expectantly as I took another sip of my coffee. "I, um...I have some news."

\---

"Darling, have you seen Alex's truck?" Ben with hair mussed and clad in tartan pyjamas is enough to brighten my morning, even though his eyes are still bleary. Ben carrying Alex looking much the same – substitute Postman Pat pyjamas for the tartan – was enough to melt my heart.

I walked over to them with a cup of coffee – black, two sugars – and reached up to kiss both cheeks. "Try the mud room; he was playing with it in the garden yesterday." While they went to look I finished preparing breakfast then sat Lizzie in her highchair, giving her some fruit pieces and a sippy cup of milk. The men arrived back, with truck, and followed the same routine. After I served up scrambled eggs we each fed forkfuls to a twin in between feeding ourselves.

"So tell me about this house," I said quietly to Ben, buttering some toast and, mindful of the children's presence, being sure to keep my tone free of judgement or provocation.

He sighed, wiping Alex's chin. "I didn't consciously go looking to buy a house without telling you," he began, "it just happened." Pretty sure that's not how it goes, but okay, I'm listening. "I'd been thinking for some time – just vaguely, in the back of my mind – that it might be nice to get something bigger, with more outdoors space." It's true that our current home does have a fairly small garden and entertaining area, I had to give him that. "Then Marco and Ella got engaged and nonna mentioned the possibility of moving out of the flat so the newlyweds could be on their own and I wondered...you know how much she loves being here with the little ones..." Was he thinking of offering nonna a home with us? "So then, I'd taken the twins to the park and as we came past Savills on our way home, some photos in the window caught my eye and we went in to have a look...darling, it is the perfect house for us; plenty of grounds, outdoor entertaining, guest room and annexe, and they'd had an offer already so I had to move immediately or risk losing it..."

"Why didn't you mention it to me straight away? Call me then and there? I could have come with you to see it."

"You were in the recording studio and I..." He looked down briefly and I saw a look on his face I could only describe as belligerent. "I liked the idea of surprising you." Before I could give my standard response to that, he continued. "Yes, I know, you don't like surprises, but do you know how bl..." a quick glance at the twins stopped him from uttering the swear word. "How damn frustrating it is not to be able to surprise you? I love you, Cara, and I want to shower you with gifts..."

Trying to stay calm and reasonable – not always my natural milieu, granted – I told him, "Sweetheart, there's a big difference between surprising me with a dinner out or a new pair of earrings and surprising me with a house. Don't you think that choosing somewhere for our family to live should be a decision we make together?"

His lips tightened in a way I knew meant he was digging his heels in, unprepared to give ground, and I sighed internally. We'd had this argument about him surprising me with large gifts before – only the previous year he'd tried to buy me a new car – but I'd never expected he would go this far. Finally, he said, "Yes, I do, and we did when we found this place, but these were exceptional circumstances."

Unable to face the rest of my eggs, I pushed my plate away and wiped Lizzie's sticky fingers, rescuing a slice of banana from being mashed into her curls. I was frustrated, not only by the situation but also Ben's stubbornness, but as I sipped at my tea I recalled some words of wisdom Wanda had told me about raising children. 'You have to pick and choose your fights,' she'd said, 'Put your foot down firmly when it concerns their physical safety or moral fibre, but don't sweat the small stuff; think about if it's really important enough to fight over.' So, did I want to dig my heels in as much as Ben was obviously prepared to, and prolong the bad feeling about this, or could we agree to disagree and move on?

"Have you exchanged contracts yet?" I asked, surprising him.

"No. I'm still waiting on the structural survey."

Okay. Deep breath, Cara, this is not completely irrecoverable. "So...if I see the place and absolutely hate it?"

My heart fluttered a little when his eyes brightened. "If you hate it we can still pull out. But you'll love it, I know you will."

God, that face. This man is my kryptonite. "Well, we'd better go have a look at it then. But Ben...from here forward..."

"I know," he said, "no more surprises."

"No, I'll...I'll try to be more open to surprises," The joy on his face almost undid me. "But they have to be smaller than a car, Benedict, promise me," I was quick to add.

He leant over and kissed me, curling my toes. Damn his eyes! "Smaller than a car, I promise, my darling." As he stood, saying, "I'd better call the agent right away and arrange a time for us to view," the doorbell rang. I got the children down while he answered it, stunned when he returned carrying a huge bouquet of blood red roses. I was further stunned when the card revealed who had sent them.

Jake.


	30. Confusion is Nothing New

I'm staying at the Connaught. Have dinner with me? Jake

"What the fu...fudge is he doing sending flowers and dinner invitations to my wife?" Luckily Ben halted his bad language in time, with two avid listeners hanging on to his every word, though he sounded quietly furious. "The gall of that guy; I ought to..." Eyes narrowed and a flush spread up from his neck, morphing him rapidly into Caveman Ben – though not in a good way. Well, I guess it would be a good way if we were alone, because testosterone-fueled Ben is pretty damn sexy, but, um, yeah, young children present.

"Daddy mad!" exclaimed Alex, staring up at his father's red face.

"Him need poop?" Lizzie asked innocently and it was all I could do to stifle a giggle. Our daughter had recently adopted a rather novel approach to filling her nappy; she would stand firm, feet apart, knees bent, hands clenched into tiny fists and scrunch her face up into a red, wizened ball while she...well, you know. Pooped.

Still swallowing my mirth, I answered. "No darling, daddy doesn't need...he's just had a bit of upsetting news." Ben snorted at my description but the next minute his expression softened when Lizzie clung to his leg, hugging him in comfort.

"Love, dada."

He knelt down, taking her in his arms; she flung her small arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. The red was slowly receding. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you too."

Alex, seemingly bored with the conversation, began racing his truck round in circles on the rug. Lizzie, a real daddy's girl, snuggled into Ben's shoulder and patted his chest – presumably in reassurance. Ben kissed her hair then looked at me.

"I had no idea he was coming to London; I assumed he'd be going back to California with Josh. Perhaps he wants to apologise for the other night?" I suggested hopefully, though I could tell from Ben's face he either didn't believe it was possible or didn't care even if it were.

"You're not going to dinner with him."

"It would be rude to just..."

"Cara."

"I could..."

"No."

I frowned, torn between being annoyed at his high-handed attitude of telling me what I could and could not do, and feeling all warm and cuddly inside at the 'me Tarzan, you Jane' side of him. Dammit, it's so confusing! Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, I reminded him he wanted to call the real estate agent but I may as well have saved my breath; he wasn't fooled. Stepping close – really close – he put a finger under my chin so I was forced to look right into steely eyes.

"You Will. Not. Have. Dinner. With. Jake. Do I make myself clear?"

Okay, now sexy Caveman Ben has made his appearance and dammit, I'm tingling in all sorts of places I shouldn't be with our children present. I opened my mouth to answer him, though I had no idea exactly what I was going to say, but it didn't matter because I wasn't given the chance. His mouth claimed mine in a kiss so intense, so searing, so...manly and masterful and so damned sexy and don't even get me started on his...oh, um, sorry – where was I? Oh yes, the only thing I could concentrate on was remaining upright. All my girly parts colluded with my heart and staged a bloodless coup; there was absolutely no part of my body prepared to argue with him.

Holy shit.

"Holy shit!" a small voice repeated. Dammit, I said that out loud and now Lizzie was parroting the wonderful new phrase. I moaned.

"You haven't answered my question, sweetheart," Ben growled somewhere near my ear; I wasn't looking, I was too busy simmering in the heat from his body.

"Yes."

"Yes what, my love?"

Jeez, talk about persistent! "Yes, you made yourself clear." What the hell, Cara, you're giving in that easily? What about...oh...another kiss...oh God...okay...mmpfmph. Staggering a little when he released me and panting as though I'd run a marathon, I slowly opened my eyes to find him looking at me, an extremely self-satisfied smirk on his face and his hair in utter disarray. Had I done that?

He handed Lizzie over to me and pressed a most unsatisfactory peck to my forehead. "Good," he pronounced, then, "I'm going to call the agent."

"Holy shit!" Lizzie said.

I clapped a hand over her mouth. "No sweetheart, that's a naughty word."

Ben's chuckle taunted me as he left the room.

\---

"What do you think?"

"It's perfect."

"You really think so?"

I really did. A Tudor-style house set in almost two acres of land with mature trees and well cared for grounds, the place was exactly what we needed. In spite of predominantly dark wood paneling in many rooms, the window and decorating treatments meant they were still filled with light as well as being warm and welcoming. There were more than enough bedrooms and family rooms as well as the annexe Ben had mentioned, comprising of a bedroom and bathroom, living area and small kitchenette. The pool was also a plus as far as I was concerned, but once I saw the old carriage house that he suggested may possibly be turned into a recording studio, any lingering doubts were firmly vanquished.

"I really do, Numbercrunch. You outdid yourself finding this one."

An eyebrow quirked and he smiled that special smile he saved for when he thought he'd dug himself out of a hole. "So I'm forgiven, then, my kooky queen?" he murmured quietly, making sure the agent couldn't hear.

"Cook dinner tonight and you will be."

"Deal," he smirked, giving me a chaste peck on the lips then going to speak to the agent while I wandered a little more, admiring the carved detailing on the banisters, wondering about the effectiveness of the many fireplaces, enjoying the view out of the windows and picturing which rooms the children would have. I also made a mental note to myself to speak to nonna.

\---

"Cara!"

Oh Lord.

"Dada mad, mama?"

"Sounds a bit like it, doesn't it poppet?" I halted my hair brushing and called out to him. "I'm up here with Lizzie, sweetheart." The sound of heavy footsteps and deep mumbling only reinforced the feeling that something or someone had upset my usually even tempered husband. Casting my mind back over the past twenty-four hours, I couldn't immediately think of anything the children or myself had done to aggravate him to this level.

He blew into the room like a tornado and Lizzie and I both looked up, not at all startled to see red cheeks, stormy eyes and a heavy scowl.

"What's wrong?" I asked, abandoning the task of taming Lizzie's wild curls. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and snuggled closer to me, watching Ben.

"He's done it again," came the barked reply. I was none the wiser.

"Who's done what, love?" Had Alex smeared peanut butter all over the kitchen cupboards again? Or emptied baby powder through all his and Lizzie's clothes drawers?

"Him. Jake." He almost spat the words out of his mouth. "More flowers and there's a letter this time."

Oh, dammit; why does he have to be so bloody persistent? I took the letter from Ben, noting the unbroken seal – even clearly furious, he still maintained impeccable manners. Opening it up, I scanned the contents and sighed before handing it to him to read.

"He has to be dealt with; this is too much."

"I'll call Rick and see if he can run interference; perhaps with a good pep talk he'll give it up and go away."

"I can give him a damned good pep talk," he threatened, glowering again.

Whispering into Lizzie's ear, "Sweetie, go to the playroom and choose a book for me to read to you," I sent her out of the danger zone so I could make an attempt at making Ben see sense. "Darling, you can't go anywhere near him when he gets to you like this; imagine if you lost control and the press got hold of it." Standing and wrapping my arms around his middle, I pressed myself close in hopes of calming him. Grumbling and growling like a grizzly, he was clearly longing to be able to say 'damn the press' but knew the reality of his celebrity status wouldn't allow an altercation to go unmentioned. "We'll sort something out, I promise," I murmured, squeezing him gently and kissing his pursed mouth.

"I love you," I told him in between kisses. "I'm not going anywhere." I was referring to the incredible suggestion contained in Jake's note – that I go with him to the US, where we would work together and I'd become a huge star. To be honest, that made me rather concerned for Jake's state of mind and I would definitely be speaking to Rick about it, as soon as possible. This was all escalating at a pace that was leaving me confused and not a little uneasy.

"This has to stop," he grouched, the angry redness in his face slowly fading. "You're mine and it's time he faced up to that fact."

"I know." I ran my fingers over his cheek and although the next words I spoke were to soothe him, I meant every syllable. "I'm yours, Benedict, and I don't want anyone else." His scorching kiss laid claim to me, firmly and distinctly, and I kissed him back in total surrender.

An hour or so later, as Ben watched the children, I called Rick and explained it all to him. "I'm worried, Rick, this isn't like him at all. Sending the flowers, and the note, it's all...I don't know..."

"Obsessive?"

"Kind of, yes. He was never like this before. I mean, the idea that I would abandon my husband and children to go off with him...do you think if you talk to him, it would help?"

"Do you mind if I discuss it with Marcus to see what he thinks? He's known him longer than I have."

"Of course, that's fine. I just want the problem gone; it's driving Ben crazy."

"I know; I'll do my best. Call you tomorrow?"

"Please. I'll be here."

I hung my head and gave a deep sigh once the call was ended, still feeling uneasy about Jake's behaviour. I had a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach and while I had no idea what it was, it refused to go away.


	31. The Signs Implore Me

"Darling, why were you so nervous? She's a woman and mother, just like you."

"But it was Adele, Ben; she's only the most talented and successful singer/songwriter of our generation." I pulled my hair out of the casual ponytail I'd worn and picked up my hairbrush.

Strong arms wrapped around my middle, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder as our eyes met in the mirror on the wall in front of me. "I know how much you admire her."

"Admire? I can't adequately explain how much of an understatement that is, Cumbers; it's like saying the Beatles had a few good hits or Elvis quite liked jumpsuits or...you're mildly cute." I turned in his embrace. "I'd give the woman my next-born if she asked me." Then I pictured Alex and Lizzie sleeping peacefully down the hall. "Well, all right, maybe not – but you get my point...why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not laughing at you, sweetheart, I'm laughing with you." His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

"I'm not laughing."

"Well, what can I do to make you laugh then?"

"Um...mm...kissing me won't do it...Ben...oh..." I've got to hand it to the man, he definitely knows how to use his lips and body to distract me – not that I'm complaining. Nope. Not. At. All.

We had been to a party at Ed's place and among the illustrious guests had been the woman who was my greatest inspiration; meeting her was a dream come true. Unfortunately, in true me style, my nerves had gotten the better of me and I'd spouted verbal diarrhea like I was a chocolate fountain in a room full of ravenous diabetics. Incredibly, at the point in time when I had finally shut up and wished for the earth to open and swallow me, Adele had given that loud, brazen laugh of hers then proceeded to match my oral outpouring with one of her own. After staring stunned at each other for a few seconds, we had bonded over verbiage, singing, song writing, babies and motherhood, and anyone within a five-foot radius had found it difficult to get a word in edgeways for the remainder of the evening. Ed had jokingly accused me of monopolising her but she'd simply told him laughingly to sod off and let us swap breastfeeding stories.

"Sweetheart?"

"Mmm?" I came back to the present, though I wasn't much disposed to more talking, not while his lips were sending lightning bolts of pleasure from every nerve ending in my neck and collarbone.

"Speaking of next-born; aren't you late?"

"Late for what?" I nuzzled into his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent and thinking it was time his clothes came off. As usual, he looked unutterably handsome tonight, to the point of making me drool, and with that in mind, I began loosening his tie.

"Late, late, darling...as in when did you last have..."

"Oh!" My startled exclamation told him he didn't need to finish that sentence. I stared at him, aghast, every part of me stilling as dates and numbers swirled around inside a head already a little woozy. "Well, I'm...I think it was..." Concentrate, Cara! Holy crap! Panicking a little, I pulled out of his arms and raced to the study to get my diary, rifling frantically through the pages to find the last time I'd marked the arrival of my 'monthly curse' – a name left over from a convent school upbringing. "It's got to be here somewhere," I muttered, finding nothing since more than two months before. "How did I not notice that?" I wondered out loud. Ben had followed me in and I turned to him, small things clicking into place now that I allowed myself to consider the possibility of a reason for them. "Oh God, oh God..."

He gathered me into his arms, the expression on his face so sweet and gentle and loving that my anxiety instantly began to melt away. "Sweetheart," he murmured soothingly, "it's all as simple as taking a test. We'll visit the doctor tomorrow, shall we?" I nodded. "Are you okay?" He swept hair off my face and kissed me. "Would you be unhappy if...?"

"No! Oh no! That would be..." Okay, unexpected certainly, but the twins are almost two, so I suppose... "Wonderful...I think." I blinked at him. "Would you be unhappy if...?" It was like we were both afraid to say the words out loud in case we jinxed the possibility. Ludicrous, of course, but...well, heck, it's me, after all. What else would you expect?

"No, my love," he pulled me closer. "I would be ecstatic if..."

Oh, well, that's okay then. Good.

\---

The test next day proved how much more observant than me Ben was and I walked around in a daze for a few hours afterwards. As with the previous pregnancy, we would be sharing our news with immediate family members only – with the exception of Rick and Ed, who would need to know for planning purposes, of course - until I was safely past the first trimester, and after discussing it, decided also not to tell Alex and Lizzie until much closer to the time they could expect their little brother or sister to arrive. The doctor had estimated my gestation at seven weeks, so we wouldn't have long to wait until they could hear a heartbeat and we'd get a fairly good indication whether I carried one baby or two. Not two, please Lord; I'm not sure I could cope with being that blessed.

Ben quietly crowed that his surprise house purchase couldn't have come at a better time and I knew it was something I was going to have thrown in my face for the rest of my days.

In the afternoon he took the children to visit his parents as I waited to hear from Marcus and Rick, who had offered to speak with Jake. I prowled around the house picking up discarded items of clothing, putting toys away, stashing Ben's latest script up higher where sticky little fingers couldn't reach, and generally trying to keep busy while anxiety ate away at me. When Tony rang I had trouble concentrating on the conversation until, at last, a word got through to me: mama.

"What? Tony, sorry, repeat that please."

"Marco and I have decided to make contact; we want to know how you feel about inviting her over here for a visit."

Well, hell; with my mind full of baby drama, house drama and Jake drama, I'd almost completely forgotten about mother drama.

"I...um...oh Hell, Tony, I haven't given it any thought."

"Can you think about it now?"

Almost falling onto the nearest piece of furniture, I gave a deep sigh, squeezed my eyes shut and thought. Mama, here, with all of us, meeting Maria and Ella, seeing her grandchildren for the first time. A picture popped into my head of her sitting on our couch with Lizzie on her lap; Lizzie, who looked so much like me, and I was a clone of my mother. Oh God.

"Yes," I croaked, then coughed to clear my throat. "When are you thinking?"

"We wondered if, maybe, in time for nonna's birthday."

Nonna was turning eighty-five next month and there was to be a big family celebration. "You don't think that might be throwing her in to the lion's den a little?" I asked. "We don't know how the rest of the family are going to react, and they're de Luca relatives, remember, not Todaros." Good Lord, our father's relations could eat her alive.

"Good point," Tony conceded. "Okay, after that, then, si?"

"Si."

When we'd rung off I sat staring at nothing for a few minutes, recalling Rome and the look on my mother's face when we'd shown her photos of her family, the memories bringing an ache in my chest and a lump to my throat. Still lost in thought, I started when the loud clamouring of my phone sounded again and didn't bother looking at caller ID before I answered.

"Hello?"

"Cara?"

"Jake?"

"Yeah. Listen, can we get together and talk?"

"Well, I..."

"Please. Look, no pressure, I just...for old times' sake?"

Crap. What do I do? Ben forbade me to see him...wait, no, he forbade me to have dinner with him...and this isn't dinner, so technically I wouldn't be disobeying...

"Where?" I asked quickly, before guilt made me change my mind.

Jake gave me an address and I told him I'd be there in roughly forty minutes. I scribbled a quick note to leave for Ben: Gone to sort things with Jake. Be back for dinner. I love you.


	32. Addicted to You

Jake's guitar was in his hand when he opened the door. "Hey. Come in."

"You've still got Narelle," I observed, using the name he'd given his guitar and had once told me was a popular girl's name in Australia.

"Yeah," he smiled. "She still sounds as sweet as the day I got her."

I looked around the room, noting a few items of clothing strewn haphazardly over the bed, cotton balls and pieces of paper scattered over the desk and coffee table. In the days when he and Marcus shared a room, Jake had always been the neater of the two; seems his shorter hair wasn't the only thing that had changed.

"Have a seat." He indicated one of the two armchairs pulled up in front of a large window overlooking the London skyline; grey clouds were rolling in from the east, making rain highly likely. I thanked him and sat. "Want a drink? I've got beer." He moved to the bar fridge, opening it and extracting a bottle.

Even if I could have, my stomach, already a little unsettled, squirmed at the idea. "No thanks, I'm fine."

He didn't seem happy with my answer, though. "Come on, you used to always be happy to have a beer after a gig." The smile on his face suddenly turned into almost a sneer. "Too good for beer now that you're married to that posh tosser, is that it? Prefer champagne?"

I leapt to my feet, feeling both my temper and the colour of my face heat up. "If you're just going to insult Ben..."

I'd only taken two steps when Jake's hand rested on my arm, halting me. "I'm sorry, Caz. Don't go. Please." I paused, glaring at him, though he appeared his usual laid back self again. What the hell? Has he got a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on? This is not the Jake I know.

"What's going on with you, Jake?"

"What? Nothing! What do you mean? Just because I offer you a drink doesn't mean there's something going on." He was almost aggressive again, his mercurial mood swings baffling me. Looking at him more closely, I realised he had dark bags under his eyes – which looked a little glassy – and his skin, despite the tan, was tightly drawn across his cheekbones.

"Are you okay? I mean...health-wise?"

"I'm fine. Jesus!" The bottle was slammed onto the coffee table, making me jump a little, and he strode to the door and back, a hand raking through his short hair. Frankly, I was getting a little nervous and thinking maybe it wasn't such a great idea to come here.

"I think I should just go." I headed toward the door but Jake beat me to it, jumping in front of me and barring the way. "Jake..."

"You're not going anywhere, so just sit down, Cara." His voice was steely and determined, another side of Jake that was new and not altogether welcome.

I could just knee him in the balls again; that had the desired outcome last time I was forced to do it. But will he be expecting it and be ready to defend himself? Oh, Lord. I could feel my anxiety level rising, and with it, the nausea that had been lurking quietly in the background upped the ante somewhat, so much so that I really needed to sit down. "Have you got any crackers? Or plain biscuits?" I asked, perching on the edge of the armchair. "And a glass of water please."

Instantly he was all concern, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and handing it to me then rifling through some items on top before triumphantly showing a small pack of crackers with cheese. I gulped the cold liquid then ripped open the pack, hoping they would settle my stomach. Jake sipped on his beer and watched me, the look in his eyes almost calculating. "You sick or something?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine, just an unsettled tummy. This is helping." He seemed satisfied with that explanation, nodding and taking another swig of beer.

"You really should come to LA, Cara; I've made some great contacts while I've been there and I could get you signed with a record deal in no time, then we could..."

"You said no pressure," I reminded him, at the same time willing the crackers to settle.

"But you're wasted here," he insisted, stabbing a finger in the air for emphasis and almost glaring at me. "You've got so much talent and you're pissing around with it; if you just put all your energy into singing instead of..."

But I was beyond being able to concentrate on his words; my stomach was telling me it was extremely unhappy and I knew I needed to get into the bathroom, pronto.

"I'm sorry, I need to..." I raced past him, flinging the door shut behind me and barely making it in time before the crackers, water and a decent amount of acid and bile were forcefully ejected from my body. I retched and retched, moaning softly while thinking this was one part of being pregnant I could definitely live without. Ben had once, when I was pregnant with the twins, told me as I was vomiting that I should remember it was all for a happy outcome. He wasn't foolish enough to say it a second time, no matter how true it was.

Once it appeared I had nothing left in my stomach, I moved to the sink to splash cold water on my face and rinse my mouth. Seeing a hotel-sized bottle of mouthwash, I took a swig and swished the awful taste away, but I accidentally knocked the lid off the counter and watched it fall into the small rubbish bin on the floor. As I leaned down to retrieve it, my whole body froze when I saw some of the other contents of the bin – a couple of syringes and some scorched plastic bottle caps.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Suddenly Jake's erratic mood swings were explained, as were the baggy eyes and tight skin, but the revelation brought no reassurance - in fact it made me more nervous than before, and me nervous has never been a good thing. I didn't know a great deal about drugs but I remembered enough high school health classes to recognise the paraphernalia of a heroin user.

With trembling fingers, I retrieved the mouthwash bottle cap and replaced it, fumbling a little as thoughts whirled around inside my brain, thoughts mostly of Ben and our children, including the new little one growing inside me. Ben would be so angry with me for coming here and while I'd thought at the time that I was doing the right thing for my friend, the new knowledge of Jake's troubles made me realise I could possibly have put myself and our baby in harm's way. I had no idea any more how much I could trust Jake and rely on his feelings for me – if at all – but somehow I had to find a way to get out of here and home safe.

Dear Lord, I am calling upon you today for your divine guidance and help. I am in crisis and need a supporting hand to keep me on the right and just path. My heart is troubled but I will strive to keep it set on you, as your infinite wisdom will show me the right way to a just and right resolution. Thank you for hearing my prayer and for staying by my side. Amen.

"Cara? What the hell is taking you so long?" Jake had barely finished asking the question before the bathroom door burst open and he was there, looking at me with suspicion written all over his face.

"Sorry, I...I've been sick. I think I must be coming down with stomach flu or something...it's probably a virus and I'm spreading the germs to you, Jake...so sorry...I should go home and rest..."

My heart sank when his reply was, "No, I don't think so."

"Seriously, you don't want to get this; it was chunder city in here just a moment ago and now I feel like death warmed up." Well, that wasn't too far from the truth; this nausea is worse than I had it with the twins.

Jake just shrugged. "I'll take my chances." He stepped back from the doorway to allow me to pass, so I wandered slowly back to the chair I was on before, badly in need of water for my poor abused throat but leery in case I still couldn't keep it down. Oh, what the hell; if I'm going to retch, it's better to have something to bring up than just dry heave. I took a few tentative sips, eying Jake and wondering what he was planning to do. "Do you have your passport on you?" he asked now.

"What? No, of course not." What the heck? Is he still going on about me going to the States? Does he really think he'll be able to talk me around? Or maybe...shit...he's not thinking of forcing me to leave, is he? Thank God I didn't have my passport with me; that might put a spanner in his plans, or at least buy me some time to talk him into letting me go home.

But my heart took a dive again when he murmured, "Doesn't really matter; I know a guy."

What on earth does that mean?

He began pacing back and forth between the desk and the bed while I sat quietly, pretending I wasn't watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was beginning to look rather frazzled and I wondered how long it had been since he'd last shot up and whether or not he was in need of his next fix. If he was, it might give me the few minutes I'd need to run out of the hotel room, or at least call for help...my phone! Oh my God, how did I not think of that sooner? I eyed my handbag, sitting on the floor near my feet; if I reach for it, he may realise what I'm doing and take my phone away – in fact, now I think about it, I'm surprised he hasn't already done that. If I could just get it for a short time, I could send a text to Ben. No, maybe Rick might be better – he wouldn't be as mad with me as Ben surely will be. Now, I just need to distract Jake for a few minutes...

"Do you have any Aspirin or Paracetamol?" I asked, trying to look unwell. Not terribly difficult to do right now.

He stopped and frowned. "No."

Thank goodness.

"There's a vending machine out in the hallway; I noticed it on my way in," I pointed out helpfully. He hesitated, scowling at me for a minute or two before giving a grunt and rough instruction to stay put. It was unnecessary, really – there wasn't any point in me trying to leave with him just outside. I did, however, scoop up my handbag as soon as he left and find my phone, unlocking it and opening up the text app. Just as I was about to begin typing, I heard him at the door. Shit! Hide it, Cara! Pulling open my shirt collar, I stuffed my phone into my bra and quickly tossed my bag back onto the floor as Jake came into the room, a twin pack of Aspirin in his hand. He chose a glass and handed them both to me, so I poured some water from my bottle and dropped in the tablets, watching them fizz and dissolve as if my life depended on it while I thought of a way to get some privacy to send that text.

Deliberately not waiting until it had completely dissolved, I gulped the medicine down and put the glass on the coffee table, then I gave what I thought was an Oscar-winning rendition of a dry retch.

"Oh God," I muttered for Jake's benefit. "My stomach..." Lurching out of my chair, I laid it on even thicker. "I'm going to be sick...oh God..."

Jake moved out of my way as if I had the bubonic plague and I quickly stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door, moving over to the bowl and making retching noises while I fished the phone from my bra and hurriedly sent a message.

Connaught hotel, room 312. Need help, but be careful, Jake's not himself.

Then it was a case of waiting for the cavalry to arrive.


	33. A Tactical Response

Emerging from the bathroom I saw a bag on the bed and the room was much tidier – Jake had been packing. He examined my face.

"Are you alright?"

Should I tell him I'm pregnant? Will it make a difference? Like one of those 'Baby on Board' stickers people put in their cars – will he go easy on me? Oh, who are you trying to kid, Cara; since when do those things do anything at all? Does a driver think 'Oh, I won't run this red light and smash into the car I can't see coming from my left, because they've got a baby on board; I'll wait and run the next light instead'? Then again, he did make that comment in Rome about me being kept tied down and on a leash, so perhaps he wouldn't be at all sympathetic to my delicate condition. God, he's become so unpredictable and that's worrying and...no, it's not scary Cara, he's Jake, he's one of your oldest friends and he cares about you. Or he did, anyway. Not scary.

"I...ah..." But I didn't have to think up a response because just then a loud melodic ping sounded from my bra.

Jake's eyes narrowed to pinpoints and a dark scowl appeared on his face. "What the fuck?"

Shit! Why didn't I think to put my phone on silent? I give myself a metaphorical slap on the side of the head, much good that it does.

"You called someone?" Jake growled. "Him? Did you call him?" The steely, determined look was back on his face and out of nowhere the words 'Fight or Flight' popped into my brain. I choose flight. Without further thought I turned and made a dash for the door, only a few paces away. I heard a snarl behind me, which scared the bejeezers out of me and put more speed into my feet, but he was quicker; I had my hand on the knob when my clothing was tugged – really hard - and I was brought to an abrupt halt. My heart was pounding so loud I almost missed him hissing, "You're not going anywhere. Not without me, anyway."

Not scary. Not scary.

With an arm around my waist he half carried, half dragged me back towards the chair. I felt a hand inside my top and opened my mouth to scream but he was only grabbing my phone before he dumped me on the seat.

"Password."

Oh, hell no. "I'm not telling you my password so you can look at my messages and photos and...things. That's private!"

"I want to see that message," he growled, bending so his face was right in front of mine. "Tell me the password."

I wanted to see the damn message too, but I didn't think it was a good idea for him to see the one I'd sent. "I could read it to you," I offered hopefully. Well, half hopefully. Maybe a quarter.

There was a moment's silence and I began to think he might actually be considering my idea. I wasn't under that illusion for long though; he straightened, turned and flung my phone hard against the wall. As I gasped he strode to where it lay on the floor, stomping on it angrily until it was a shattered, cracked mess.

Okay, a little bit scary now.

"Pick up your handbag, we're out of here." His terse instruction made me jump. He was flinging a couple more things into his case and I decided to try once more to reason with him, hoping the Jake I knew was still there somewhere.

"Jake...I can't go with you. I have two young children...they're only two...I'm their mother and they need me. And there's my nonna, who lives with us now; she's old and not as spry as she used to be, and she needs looking after. And Ben, who needs me too, and I need him. I can't leave, Jake. Why...why don't you stay here? Join the band again if you want, or do session work here...you're so talented..."

"No!" The word exploded around the room and I flinched. "He doesn't get to keep you and ruin everything!" Jake's face turned a deep red, veins almost popping on his forehead and a wild look in his eyes; when I saw his hands clench into fists I held my breath and cowered a little.

Definitely scary now, Cara. Stop pissing off the angry man.

"Okay," I said quickly, my voice sounding shaky even to my ears. "We'll go." Hardly daring to breathe, I watched him carefully; if he was going to strike out at me, I wanted to see it coming so I had a chance to get out of the way.

Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Flight didn't seem to be a viable option at this point, so I'd have to fight, but Jake had the physical advantages of height, weight and strength – not to mention whatever extra the drugs were doing to him – so I'd have to fight with my brain instead. Shit.

I picked up my handbag and stood. "Ready when you are." He wants to go to the States, I reasoned, and I didn't have a passport on me, so this would all come to a screeching halt. Besides, airports have security guards and they might come in handy.

Breadcrumbs, though; I needed to leave breadcrumbs.

\---

Jake surprised me by hailing a taxi so while he tapped madly on his phone keyboard I racked my brain trying to think of ways I could let Ben know where we were headed. He'd turn up at the hotel, I knew, but when he didn't find me there, what would he do next? Why can't he really be Sherlock when I need him to? Powers of deduction would come in so...

Shit! I sat up straight in my seat, an idea forming.

"Are you looking forward to the new season of Sherlock on the BBC?" I asked the driver, leaning forward so he could hear me clearly. Ahmed, his ID said his name was. "Are you a Sherlock fan, Ahmed?"

"I am," he replied, surprising me with a Geordie accent. "Bet you anything that Moriarty is back again – faked his own death, I reckon."

Perfect! I chanced a glance at Jake, relieved to see him scowling at a text.

"My husband is Benedict Cumberbatch," I told Ahmed hurriedly. "I can give you a few spoilers about season four if you like." Ahmed's startled eyes met mine in the rear-vision mirror and I held them for a moment, noting the light ahead of us was red. "I'm Cara," I smiled at him.

"Shut up!" Jake rasped from beside me, tugging on my elbow to pull me back on the seat.

"Are you heading back to the Connaught after you drop us, Ahmed?" I tried to send a message with my eyes, crossing my fingers that the teaser of spoilers would be something he would remember if he were questioned about seeing me. And that my hint to return to the hotel would have an effect.

"I said, shut up!" Jake was pretty riled, so I clamped my mouth shut, but every now and then I noticed Ahmed steal a glance at me in the mirror and each time I opened my eyes wide and implored him silently.

One breadcrumb...

When we reached Heathrow Jake bundled me out, hissing, "Don't try anything," and holding firmly to my arm while he argued with Ahmed over the fare. The fumes from all the traffic around us started to get to me and my queasiness returned.

Just what I need.

Finally, the fare settled, we went into a terminal teeming with people of all shapes and sizes, cultures and nationalities. Normally I found airports a fascinating place, but today the crowds and their attendant noise merely served to heighten my nauseous feeling somehow, and I felt the tell-tale rolling of my stomach. While Jake looked around for something – the relevant airline desk, I presumed - I looked for the nearest Ladies room.

"This way."

"Jake, I need to..."

"Come on!" He yanked at my arm and I, perforce, followed. We hadn't taken more than half a dozen steps though before the few contents of my stomach were hurled over the floor in front of me. "What the fuck?" Jake exclaimed.

"I tried to tell you," I said, then retched again, though nothing came out this time. He didn't let go of my arm but I did notice a few people had stopped to stare, while others took a wide berth around us, flinging disdainful looks over their shoulders.

Well, breadcrumb number two, with any luck, I thought hopefully as I began to feel a little better. 

"Madam? Are you in need of assistance?" Jake and I both turned to see an airport official looking at me with concern.

"She's fine," Jake barked before I could formulate a response. "Sorry about the mess." And once again he hauled me off, my shorter legs rushing to keep up with his longer strides as we weaved around bodies and baggage. Eventually we stopped at a Starbucks. The thought of food or drink made my tummy roll again, but I knew I needed to have something for the baby's sake; I hadn't eaten in over eight hours. Jake ordered us both coffees but I asked for orange juice instead, not even blinking when he glared at me. When I asked for a slice of raisin toast he grumbled under his breath but ordered it anyway, then after paying led me to an uncomfortable plastic chair. Once the meal came we sat in relative silence; I took small bites and sips, willing each one to go down and stay down. Jake had an air of anticipation about him and I wondered what he was waiting for.

Oh God, please don't let it be his dealer.

"Excuse me, aren't you Cara de Luca?" a deeply masculine voice asked from near my right shoulder. I looked up – and up – into warm smiling eyes. He was a giant of a man, almost as broad as he was tall, but in spite of his size he appeared completely harmless.

I glanced quickly at Jake to judge whether it would be okay to acknowledge who I was or if I should deny it, but he seemed pleased at the attention. "Yes, I am," I told the giant.

"My wife just loves your singing," he smiled, "Would it be alright if I got a photo with you?"

"It would be my pleasure," I assured him.

He held out a hand to help me up, which warmed me, then gave a booming laugh when I barely reached the midway point of his chest. "Perhaps I should sit while you stand."

I laughed too, liking him more each second, but in the end he crouched beside me and reached out his long arm to take the shot. I was hoping like crazy he would send it immediately to Facebook or Twitter but daren't make the suggestion with Jake right there. Breadcrumb three, possibly? I hoped so; if he tagged me, Karon would see it for sure, and consequently Ben.

While I chatted with the guy I noticed Jake had received a message; as soon as he read it he stood and took my arm again, commanding, "Come on. This way." I bid a hurried thanks and farewell and followed along once more, looking around me as much as I could in hopes of seeing something that would help me. I balked though, when Jake started leading me into the Men's.

"I can't go in here!"

"I'm sure as fuck not leaving you alone out here."

He pushed me in and I sighed in relief to find the place was empty, though the smell didn't do much for my stomach. Thrusting me into a cubicle, he growled, "Shut the door and don't come out until I tell you."

Oh Lord! Now what?


	34. Spontaneous Combustion

"Tickets and passports please."

I waited for the inevitable confrontation at the check-in counter, watching smugly as Jake handed over...two tickets and two passports...

Wait, what? Two? But...

In shock, I grabbed hold of the ledge and stared at the documents, grim realisation sending deep shudders through me. Firstly, that if Jake had a ticket in my name then this had all been planned some time ago; and secondly, the pages of the passport purportedly mine showed no visas or stamps from previous journeys, so it couldn't be the genuine thing. 'I know a guy'; Jake's words of earlier began to make sense and I wondered if the person who'd made it was who he had been talking to in the loos. They'd spoken in low voices and I hadn't been able to overhear, despite trying.

I spent a minute or so wondering how the hell someone could knock up a fake passport in such a short period of time, plus how Jake was suddenly in touch with people who made fake passports, before pushing those questions to the back of my mind. More important than that, I was now becoming fairly alarmed. I'd banked on being unable to fly because I had no passport but with that problem circumvented, I now needed another way to prevent me having to get on that plane.

I had quite a number of options, I knew that – if I was prepared for this to turn into a public spectacle, which I wasn't. Not if I could help it.

Think, Cara, think!

"Thank you." While I'd been daydreaming, our check-in procedure had been completed. Dammit!

"Come on." I was getting rather peeved at Jake grabbing my arm and dragging me around and for a minute considered emulating my daughter and throwing an epic tantrum in the middle of the busy concourse. Remembering Lizzie's meltdown made me smile, then suddenly I was fighting back tears, wanting nothing more than to be home with my family.

"Got any aerosols or sharp things in your handbag?" Jake asked as he hauled me towards the security scan area. Without waiting for an answer, he took my bag and looked for himself, a faint smile on his face. His disposition had become a lot sunnier since our little sojourn in the Men's room and when I looked at him closer, I noticed he was looking less haggard too. I was afraid I knew why that was. "Okay, you're good to go," he pronounced as he returned my bag.

At security there was the inevitable queue, for which I was grateful as my heart had started pounding nineteen to the dozen. The closer we got to an actual airplane, the more anxious I was becoming. How the hell do I get out of this without dragging Ben's name through the tabloids?

I watched as the four people in front of me went through the 3D body scanner and stumbled through when my turn came. Then I watched the screen as the assorted handbags, packs, briefcases and electronic stuff went through X-ray and another memory was triggered of Alex asking Ben what it looked for, the last time we'd gone overseas as a family. Once more I was fighting back tears.

"Just step over here please madam, if you wouldn't mind." Great, I'd been picked for the random explosives test. When asked if I'd done the process before, I answered yes, putting my arms out as the ion scan reader brushed lightly over my clothing, still thinking about Alex and...

HOLY SHIT!

I gasped, then tried to stifle it - and my excitement - but the blood was coursing through my veins at ninety miles an hour and I felt almost lightheaded. The woman running the test looked at me oddly and I caught her eye before I lost my nerve.

Do it, Cara.

"Do you see that man over there in the green hoodie?" I said to her quietly, hoping she wouldn't be too obvious when she looked.

She gave Jake a long sideways glance, then looked back to me and nodded.

I turned my head a little to the left so Jake couldn't see my mouth. "I was in line next to him and I heard him talk about a bomb," I told her, torn between being logically sure she would take it seriously and report it, and emotionally terrified she wouldn't believe me and I'd lose my last chance at getting rid of Jake without being involved in a media frenzy.

The training these people go through must be impressive, I decided, because she didn't so much as widen her eyes or raise a brow; she just strolled very quietly over to her colleague and spoke to him low-voiced. He then spoke to two other men, one of whom had a brief conversation into a walkie-talkie and the next thing I knew all four of them were surrounding Jake and asking him to accompany them for questioning. While he was arguing the point two more burly security guards arrived who made it clear they wouldn't take no for an answer.

My heart, meanwhile, was still racing at top speed and my hands began to shake with the enormity of what I had done.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners.

\---

For an hour I repeated my lie, in no doubt that Jake would be denying everything and knowing they would be searching his story, his luggage and his person and find no trace of a bomb or explosive residue. I didn't mention his drug use, hoping they would test him and discover it for themselves. I'd decided to use it as a back-up in case it looked like they'd come at me for the bomb; I'd offer the opinion that perhaps he was high and hadn't known what he was saying. The fake passport was a worry though; I was sure it would damage my credibility.

"May I call my husband to let him know about the hold up?" I asked Gordon, the security officer sitting with me. "I don't have a mobile though." He showed me how to use the landline and I rang Ben's number.

"Cumberbatch."

"Ben..."

"Cara? Darling, where are you? Are you alright? I'm just pulling up outside the international terminal; please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine, love, I..." I couldn't tell him the real story just yet so I stuck to the false one. "I heard a guy mention a bomb, so I'm in an office while they ask me some questions."

"What? What about...? No, never mind, it's...fuck!" He sounded all the things I expected – worried, angry, confused.

"Is it alright if my husband comes up here?" I asked Gordon, knowing I had to eventually come clean with the truth and thinking he could verify my side of things - well, some of it, anyway. Given the okay, I relayed to Ben the instructions on how to find our whereabouts and waited, my whole body trembling at the thought of seeing him.

When he walked in my heart leapt with joy and it was all I could do to stop the rest of me doing the same. He opened his arms and I went into them, clinging like a limpet and bursting into tears as he kissed my hair and face, murmuring my name over and over. Gordon discreetly turned his head but it took a while for me to calm down then allow Ben to wipe my face with his hanky.

"Darling, are you sure you're okay? What about the baby?"

"I've had my fair share of nausea and vomiting, but otherwise we're both okay, really."

"What's this about a bomb? And what happened to that..." He couldn't seem to finish the sentence, which I suspected was due to not wishing to use an extremely rude word to describe Jake in front of company.

"I need to explain," I told him, then turned to Gordon. "To you too, because I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful so far."

Oh boy. Lord, please let them understand – especially Ben. Though judging by the black scowl appearing on his face and the tension in his neck and shoulders, I thought it highly likely he would end up being angrier at me than any airport or security personnel.

I sighed and sat and began my story. Gordon was stoic throughout, making copious notes but hardly speaking; Ben growled and snarled and generally sounded like a bear with a thorn in his paw, though he was able to back me up about being at the airport against my will and could verify that Jake was attempting to use a false passport to get me out of the country. It took a while to go through the whole back story of Jake, so it was over an hour later when Gordon left the room for a while and I was left to face a pretty irate husband.

A husband who was sitting only inches away, avoiding my gaze and eerily silent. I could practically feel the anger burning off him and reached for my water bottle, my throat suddenly dry. Where's a good bit of vomiting to garner some sympathy when I need it?

Another hour passed before we were told I was free to go, after having been read the riot act about bandying the word 'bomb' around in an airport, no matter what the provocation. I apologised meekly and assured Gordon it wouldn't happen again, thanked him for his assistance and even posed for a photo with Ben and two of the security team who were huge Sherlock fans. Smiling was a strain for both of us.

The journey home was accomplished in more uncomfortable silence until I noticed we'd taken a detour. "Where are we going?"

"To your doctor."

"I don't need a doctor."

"Like hell you don't," Ben growled, a pinched look around his mouth, his voice an octave lower from the force of his emotions. "We need to check the baby's okay, and, by God, if he mistreated you in any way..."

"He didn't, love. You don't have to worry about that."

When I brought up the drugs, Ben's grip on the wheel tightened so hard I thought he might snap the damn thing. "Jake's an addict," I pointed out, "and he needs help. This is not his usual behaviour – you know that - so I want to find a rehab program for him..."

"Cara..." Ben didn't look at all happy about that idea.

"Addiction is a disease; it can improve with treatment, like any other. We can help him, can't we?"

"We?"

"He's an old friend."

"You want me to help that..." His words cut off but the black look on his face told me everything they didn't. "No, I won't do it," he almost spat, a stubborn set to his jaw.

"Okay." It didn't really matter; I had financial resources of my own and would look into programs with high success rates.

Five minutes later he spoke again, sounding like he was forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"God, woman!" A hand ran through his hair and he gave a strangled groan.

"You would do exactly the same if it were Adam or James or Martin," I pointed out softly. He didn't reply.

\---

"Mama sick." Lizzie's little hand patted me gently as I sat back from my latest bout of morning sickness – at four in the afternoon. That and the almost constant nausea were already taking a toll on my energy levels; I couldn't remember ever feeling this worn out before.

"Yes, darling, just a little, but you don't need to worry." I gathered her up for a cuddle, closing my eyes as we perched on the floor of the ensuite, trying to quell the rolling uneasiness in my stomach with sheer willpower. When I opened them again Ben was standing in the doorway, looking much as he had for the past three days since the Jake incident – worried and quietly furious. I'd expected him to ball me out as soon as we'd gotten home, once the doctor had confirmed baby and I were both fine, but he'd been as caring as always – making me rest, bringing me tea and food, amusing the children, being solicitous to nonna – but I could sense the anger boiling not far below the surface. Every tense line of his body, from the taut shoulder and neck muscles and the rigid way he held his head, to the way he tapped his fingers on his knees when he sat, indicated how tightly he was holding on. He had a right to be angry with me, I knew that, and ached for the worry and distress I had put him through, no matter how unwittingly. I was reasonably certain my being unwell was the reason he hadn't had it out with me and my sense of guilt grew with every hour.

He hadn't withdrawn from our bed, but his presence was more punishment than his absence would have been, for he kept well over to his side and turned his back to me to sleep. The few inches of space between us felt like a yawning chasm and I was beginning to wonder how long we could go on like this before one of us spontaneously combusted.

"Are you alright?" he asked now in a low, raspy voice.

I nodded, albeit feebly. "I'm fine." Lizzie's arms went around me protectively but the feeling of something around my neck and throat only made the nausea worse and I closed my eyes again, willing the contents of my stomach to remain where they were.

"Lizzie, would you like to come get mummy some crackers to help her feel better?" Ben suggested.

She sat back on my lap and put a hand on each of my cheeks, looking into my eyes. "You want crackers, mama?" My heart melted at the love on her sweet little face and tears prickled the back of my eyelids.

"That sounds lovely, sweetheart," I managed to get out, past the lump in my throat.

After pressing a wet kiss to my cheek she got up and went with Ben, holding his hand as they headed for the kitchen. "Mama sick, daddy; her need crackers," I heard her tell him.

"We'll have to do all we can to make her feel better, won't we little one?" his voice rumbled in reply, squeezing my heart even more as I got up off the floor to wash my face.

By evening the nausea had abated, thank God, helping me to feel a little more human. Once the children were in bed I bade nonna an early goodnight and went to our room, intending to turn in as well. Ben was standing in front of the dresser removing his watch, so after a moment's hesitation, I moved behind him and wound my arms around his middle, pressing myself into his back. He tensed but said nothing.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry I made you worry," I trembled, awaiting his response.

"You deliberately disobeyed my instruction," he said quietly.

I knew the anger in his voice was from worry and pain so I made no attempt to outline the technicality I'd used at the time as an excuse to myself. "Yes."

"You're wilful, stubborn and unpredictable and you often let your heart rule your head."

Well, I certainly couldn't deny any of those charges. "Yes."

"You put yourself and our baby in physical danger."

I cringed, but didn't bother pointing out I'd had no idea of Jake's drug problem before going there. "Yes. I'm sorry."

Releasing the deepest sigh I'd ever heard him give, his hands lifted mine and he turned, and my heart almost broke at the anguish in his eyes. "Christ, Cara, if anything had happened to you...I couldn't..." His chest heaved. "I was so scared..."

I hugged him, hard, hearing the pounding of his heart and knowing mine was doing the same

I hugged him, hard, hearing the pounding of his heart and knowing mine was doing the same. "I know. I didn't mean to put you through that, I'm sorry."

We stayed that way for some time, wrapped together, giving comfort and drawing strength from each other.

"Ben."

"Yes, love?"

"You know I would never have gone with him, don't you?" I lifted my head to look into his face; I needed to see his expression and, most especially, his eyes. 

He nodded and his arms tightened further as he repeated words I had said to him days before. "You're mine, and you don't want anyone else."

"Never. You're my everything, Cumbers, you and our children."

"I feel exactly the same, my kooky queen."


	35. Lull

"Me eat some, mama?"

"Yes, if you want sweetie, but you might not like it." Alex's interest had been piqued by my latest cravings – toasted crumpets with Marmite, sardines and tiny marshmallows.

"I'm going to be seriously worried if he enjoys that," Ben murmured in my ear as Alex eyed my plate, deciding which sample to take.

"Why wouldn't he?" I teased, "he's your son."

"What's that supposed to mean, wench?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the goofy look of mock outrage he pulled - cross-eyed, nose all scrunched up and teeth biting his lower lip. So damn adorable. "Only that you seem to be rather fond of weird things, Benadryl Coughdrop; me, for instance."

His face returned to normal and he gave me the sexy half smile I've always loved. "I am extremely fond of you, my kooky queen." He kissed me. "And you are incredibly weird."

"Exactly." I kissed him back.

"Your cravings are definitely stranger than last time around," he added, shaking his head and cringing now that Alex had picked a half slice of my gourmet crumpet.

"Then you'd better expect a child stranger than the first two," I dimpled. He gave a short groan then we both burst out laughing as Alex pulled a face of utter revulsion and promptly spat my delicacy out. Luckily we were in the garden; some enterprising bird or animal would enjoy it later. Or not.

Ben got up and held out his hand to Alex. "Come on, let's go wash your face and get you something to take the yukky taste away."

"Yukky, mama! Yuk, yuk, yuk."

"All the more for me, cara mia," I laughed, as they went off to the kitchen. I took another bite, closing my eyes briefly, enjoying the warm sun on my face and bare arms and legs, sitting back and running my hand over my still-flat stomach. Life is good, little one, and so is this crumpet. Mmm. My poor child, what must you think of the strange concoctions I send your way? Don't worry, mama's cravings won't last forever. Well, I hope not. I wonder if there's been a woman who had weird cravings throughout her pregnancy? Might have to Google that.

Since the incident I'd dubbed my bomb scare three weeks before, things had been quiet and peaceful and we'd even enjoyed a brief family holiday in Zakynthos. My doctor had given me tablets that helped settle the nausea and morning sickness to a large degree, and a week relaxing and watching the children play in the sand and water had been exactly what I needed. We'd even all picked up a light tan, despite being slathered with SPF30+.

Four days ago I'd had my ten-week scan and check-up, the doctor adamant I needed to regain the weight I'd lost due to all the vomiting. Since then both Ben and nonna had been on a campaign to feed me up, constantly tempting me with small, regular, healthy snacks and looking askance at the unusual combinations my out of control hormones begged for. The silver lining of not having gained any weight was that my regular clothes weren't yet stretching at the seams, so my maternity outfits were still packed away in boxes in the attic.

I was smiling to myself, still caressing my abdomen and feeling blessed at the joy of being an incubator for another of God's miracles, when my menfolk returned.

"How's my little cumquat doing in there?" Ben smiled at me; ever since the doctor had likened the baby's size to a cumquat, he'd adopted the name.

"Just fine," I smiled back. "You do remember that by the end of the next week it will be size of a lime, and then a lemon, and so on? You're going to confuse him or her calling it different names every couple of weeks. By the time it's born, it won't know if it's Arthur or Martha."

"We are most definitely not naming our child Arthur," he pronounced. "Arthur Cumberbatch? Sounds like a dry, dusty old professor lurking in academia and never being part of the real world."

"I think it sounds like a character from Harry Potter. What about Martha?" He shrugged. "Martha and the Vandellas," I pointed out, "Whenever I'm with you, something inside starts to burn deep and my heart's filled with fire. Could be that I'm very sentimental or is this just the way love's supposed to be? I got a heat wave burning in my heart..." I sang the opening lyrics, taking Alex by the hands and doing a makeshift dance. He wiggled his hips and swung his arms along with me, a big smile on his face that I had only to look up to see a mirror image of, and once again my heart squeezed with thankfulness for the blessing of family.

A phone rang; Ben answered while Alex and I continued our frivolity.

"Darling, it's Maria. She says Lizzie and Gaby are playing so well together she's happy to keep her for the night and wants to know if Alex would like to sleepover as well."

"Me sleep wif Carlo an' Matt?" Alex was practically jumping up and down with excitement; there was no way I could say anything but yes, so arrangements were made and I took him up to his room to pack an overnight bag.

\---

"How do you manage to get more handsome with every passing year?" I asked Ben as I knotted his tie for him that evening. He wore a tux and white shirt, his hair its natural auburn but cut fairly short.

"From the love of a good woman," was his reply, followed by a kiss that curled my toes and left me tingling in private places. You know the ones. "You, my darling, are utterly ravishing." We were getting ready to attend the Children with Cancer Ball, a charity we'd supported since the birth of the twins; I wore a simple black sleeveless gown with the diamond earrings and necklace he'd given me for our last anniversary.

"Thank you, you smooth talker, you." I grabbed a tissue to wipe my lipstick off his face.

He merely smiled, eyes crinkling, dimples evident. God, even his dimples look sexy; how the hell does he do that? "I speak nothing but the truth, love, and as we've managed to foist our offspring on your wonderful sister-in-law, I will take much pleasure in showing you just how ravish-worthy you are once we return."

"Well I definitely don't want to attend the ball now. Are you sure you have to make an appearance? I'm pretty certain Nonna's planning a night in front of the tele with her knitting now that her babysitting duties have disappeared; we could stay home and discuss this ravishing business in great detail."

The smirk he gave me was equal parts smarmy and sexy, damn the man. Now that I wasn't feeling as ill as I had been, those extra pregnancy hormones were kicking in and my libido had returned, fists pumping and flags waving.

"We," he put extra emphasis on the word, "do indeed have to make an appearance, sweetheart." He kissed my neck then spoke beside my ear. "But I promise to make it worth the wait, wench."

Oh good Lord.

On wobbly legs I followed him downstairs; we bade goodnight to nonna, collected our coats and went out to the waiting car.

I still got nervous at events with the paparazzi out in force, no matter how many I attended, but Ben was always very sweet about it, keeping his arm around me or at least holding tightly to my hand as we ran the gauntlet of cameras. Pulling up in front of the Grosvenor House Hotel, I took a deep breath to prepare myself. Just think about the ravishing he promised you later, Cara. Mio dio! I squeezed his hand hard, quite involuntarily, and he turned his head to smile at me, raising the hand up to his lips. Seriously not helping, Cumbers.

He was asked to do a quick interview so I held back a little, but when the blonde female reporter started playing with her hair and licking her lips while he was talking, I was sorely tempted to re-arrange her facial features. Back off, si cagna, he's mine. Maledizione! If I could have snarled at her, I would. Once he'd finished, I couldn't drag him away quickly enough, shooting her a dark look back over my shoulder. Unfortunately, she wasn't looking my way, but hey, I felt much better.

"Are you alright, love?"

"Me? Yes, fine. Mm hmm. Couldn't be better. You?"

"Oh lord, what have you done?" Luckily he said that very quietly, pulling us to a standstill.

"I haven't done anything. Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I know you, and that innocent face you're giving me right now – as beautiful as it is, and as much as I want to kiss it into next week – doesn't fool me for one second. What's going on?"

I'd kind of gotten lost at the whole 'kiss it into next week' part, so it took a few seconds for me to catch up with the rest of his sentence, and then I was cursing him for knowing me so well. Makes it pretty much impossible to get away with evasion, dammit.

"I didn't like the way that woman looked at you, is all," I muttered darkly.

"What woman?"

"That blonde. She was making come hither eyes at you."

Chuckling softly, he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. "My sweet kooky queen, she can make come hither eyes until the cows come home if she likes; I belong to you...and you don't share."

"Damn right I don't," I pouted, though I was feeling a little mollified by his words.

"Shall I let you in to a little secret, cuore amata?" Mesmerized by the way the small scar beneath his lip quivered and danced as he spoke, I nodded. "I'm very glad you don't share," he whispered softly, "because I don't want anyone but you."

Melt, melt, melt. Heart or ovaries, I wasn't sure and didn't care. Probably both. Oh lord, and I have to get through an entire evening surrounded by other people. Dammit, Cumbers!


	36. The One That Always Turns Me On

Come on over here and lay by my side,

I've got to be touching you.

Let me rub your tired shoulders

The way I used to do.

Look into my eyes and give me that smile,

The one that always turns me on.

And let me take your hair down,

Cause we're staying up to greet the sun.

 

And when your body's had enough of me

And I'm laying flat out on the floor,

When you think I've loved you all I can,

I'm gonna love you a little bit more.

 

Dr Hook crooned in the background as we slow-danced, Ben's arms holding me firmly against him while mine twined around his neck, my fingers softly toying with the hair at his nape. He hummed every now and then, not in time with the music, but when I massaged his scalp in a way I knew he particularly liked. When the chorus began for the last time I sang along with it, tilting my head back to look into his face; his eyes darkened as they glowed into mine and we came to a standstill when the song finished.

"We haven't made love on the floor in a while, Cumbers. Do you think we're still up for it?" I began undoing the buttons of his pristine white shirt while he gave me the small half smile I loved so much. "There it is, my favourite smile," I told him, freeing more buttons.

"You have a favourite smile?" he murmured, the heat in his eyes becoming more intense. I nodded, keeping my gaze locked on his as I pulled shirt tails from the waistband of navy trousers. "Which one is it?" he asked softly.

I reached up, pushing the shirt off his shoulders to let it fall to the floor, my hands unable to resist sweeping over the broad expanse of his muscled chest, and I whispered near his ear, "The one that always turns me on."

A low growl sent shivers from my head to my toes and my fingers barely had time to brush lightly across his rock-hard abs before his lips claimed mine and everything but his body and mine ceased to exist.

\---

The last few weeks had been hectic. We'd celebrated nonna's eighty-fifth birthday in a huge hired hall holding more of my relatives than I'd ever seen in one place before; many of my distant cousins I'd met alongside Ben for the first time.

Following that I'd had gigs every night for a week at our old stomping ground of Bob's pub in Camden. Rick had gotten word that Bob was struggling a little after a bout of ill health and a wine bar opening in competition just a few doors away. "I think he'd love to ask us to do a show for him to draw in customers, but he's a bit shy to ask," Rick had confided.

"Let's do a whole week then," I suggested. "Have a cover charge to get in the door but I don't want to be paid; just you guys, then the rest goes to Bob."

"We'll work for free too," he insisted.

"No, you'll get paid." I glared at him to let him know I was serious.

He put his hands on his hips and glared right back. "You're the talent and you're not taking any payment; how would it look if we did?"

"I don't have a family reliant on my income," I shot back, "but all of you do. You'll get your usual fee and that's all there is to it." He bristled and muttered something I chose to ignore but eventually saw the sense in what I had said and caved.

So each night for a week we were back where it had all started and the sense of nostalgia wasn't lost on the three of us. It was lovely to see Bob again, though he still looked wan, and when I surprised him by having Ed come along on our third night and do a set, he was almost in tears.

My Twitter account went crazy the next day and I was stunned early afternoon when a shrilling phone told me Adele was calling. We'd gotten together a couple of times for coffee since meeting at Ed's party, but had never talked about getting together professionally; now she was offering to pop in to Bob's one night to sing with me. Ben told me later I almost turned blue before I remembered to take a breath, then talked utter nonsense for an hour after her call; luckily my darling husband spoke fluent 'kooky Cara' and managed to explain it to our children when Alex asked if I was talking Klingon.

Oh! Star Trek reference! Must tell Ben! No, idiot, he knows already.

The next important family event looming on our horizon was the visit from my mother. In the health interests of our baby and my own stress levels, I left the planning to my brothers and their wives, merely offering suggestions if and when I was asked for them.

\---

"Alex, why are you still playing with your toys? Didn't daddy tell you to clear them up and get ready for breakfast?"

"He say play more, mama."

Raising my brow in inquisition, I gave my husband the look I used if the children disobeyed me. It hadn't failed me yet.

"Benedict?"

The use of his full name alone would tell him I wasn't happy. I'd asked him to get the children sorted; Lizzie had put away her toys and was waiting demurely. Alex, on the other hand, still had items scattered all over the floor. Now I could see Ben squirming under my glare; he was shuffling from foot to foot, hands pushed into trouser pockets, a look of guilt on his face. Beside him, Alex was mimicking his father and the two of them looked so adorable, I was having a great deal of difficulty holding back laughter.

"I'm sorry darling, I..." he swallowed rather loudly then looked down at Alex. "Alex and I were having fun and I...I told him just another minute..." They were both looking very contrite now. Ben glanced up at me from under his lashes. "Perdonami, tesoro?"

"You have two minutes to clear this all away and wash faces and hands. Pronto!"

The second I finished speaking they leapt into action, scurrying around the room. Ben scooped up half a dozen pieces to every one that Alex managed to collect, and I was once again fighting back my giggles. After they'd been placed in the basket kept in the corner for just such a purpose, Ben grabbed Alex and, hauling him over his shoulder, raced to the downstairs bathroom. Lizzie and I could hear them as they cleaned up.

"What 'perdonami' mean, daddy?"

"It means 'forgive me'. I was asking mama to not be mad at me for not doing what she asked me to do."

There were a few seconds of thoughtful silence while a tap was turned on then off again. "Oh. Like sorry?"

"Yes, son, like sorry."

"She mad, daddy, or she for...for..."

"Forgive."

"She forgive, daddy?"

"I'm not sure. We'd better be on our best behaviour at breakfast."

I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile and took Lizzie's hand as she clambered off the couch. "Come on, piccola, let's get you up to the table." Nonna arrived just as we were about to sit down; often she slept late or ate in her own kitchen area, but today was an exception.

"Ciao, nonna." We hugged as always then she kissed Lizzie's head; when Ben and Alex bustled in she greeted them too, and we all sat down to enjoy our meal. Both my menfolk were very subdued throughout, Ben even offering to do the dishes while I dressed the children. Afterwards I left them happily looking through picture books while I went to change; Ben was in our room before me.

"You're not still angry at me are you, love?" he asked, looking a little apprehensive.

"No." I stepped close enough for him to wrap his arms around me, smiling up at the crooked grin of relief he gave me. "Though if you disobey me again, I may have to punish you for setting a poor example for our son," I warned him, only half-seriously. God, he smells so good! His lips left a trail of quivering flesh over my neck and collarbone before landing just where I wanted them.

"Are you ready for today, my kooky queen?"

"I think so, though I'd be happier if this little one weren't performing gymnastics on my bladder," I told him, patting my baby bump. We both laughed when a small limb caused a fierce thump on the side of my abdomen. "There's no doubting it's your child, Cumbers; he just can't keep still for long."

It was his turn to quirk a brow at me. "She takes after her mother, my love, always on the go. Mad Italian blood, I believe."

I slapped his bicep even as I laughed. "Oh, you will so pay for that, Daddybatch!" We both chuckled as we changed, then headed out to gather our family together and drive to Tony and Maria's place, where our children were to meet my mother for the first time.


	37. Have A Little Faith

What do I call her? I can't keep using Signora Abelló, it's too formal and besides, I don't feel angry at her like I did then. Wait, what? I don't? Okay, so...that happened. But I can't call her mama either, it's too...no, that won't work. I just...

"Breathe, sweetheart; she's just as nervous as you are." Ben's softly spoken assurance near my ear made me jump. How does do that? "It will be fine, I promise," he tells the uncertain glance I give him. The sweetness of his smile helped settle a handful of the butterflies swarming in my stomach, so I took a deep breath and knocked on Tony's door briefly before opening it and going in.

\---

So...we're here. There're Tony, Marco, Maria, Ella and all our children...and my mother. It's so surreal. Did I ever think this would happen? Hell no; I'd probably have bet the apocalypse would hit us at nine oh five next Tuesday morning before I'd imagine this scene taking place. It feels weird and other worldly and...actually, kind of...right.

"Thoughts like a jackrabbit on crack?"

Ben's question told me he'd noticed I'd been quieter than usual for the last few hours – not that that was difficult; almost any cessation in my usual prattle could be deemed quiet, I guess. I'd spent most of the day skirting around the periphery of the group, watching the dynamics as my Italian family became reacquainted and my mother met her daughters-in-law and grandchildren for the first time. Surprisingly, there'd been no awkwardness or uncomfortable silences; everyone seemed sincerely happy to be here and I was able to let the anxiety I'd felt simply drift away into the cool late autumn afternoon. Looking over to where my mother sat on the sofa, Lizzie on her lap and her other grandchildren within arm's reach and hanging on her every word, I watched the soft early evening sunlight play over their features, highlighting similarities in colouring, eye shape or gamin grins, and felt a lurch in my chest.

"I was just thinking..." As I paused, his arm came around my shoulders to hug me close and I felt the softness of his kiss in my hair. "They seem as enamored of her as she is of them and maybe...they need each other." Whoa; where the hell did that come from?

Our children had wonderful grandparents in Wanda and Tim, but Maria's folks had both passed away at a young age, so Gabriela, Carlo and Matteo had only their bisnonna (great-grandmother). To see all five of them take so easily to her made me feel...actually, I don't know how I feel.

Just then my mother glanced up and caught my eye and on her face I saw a look of such longing and love that I found it difficult to swallow. Dammit, there's tears too...blinking them back, I left the shelter of my husband's embrace, drawn to the woman before me by that hint of raw emotion. She moved Matteo to make space for me next to her on the sofa and I sat quietly, my ability for speech locked up by feelings I didn't recognise but that were having a powerful effect on me.

"Your children are molto bello, Cara, and so well behaved; I can see that you and Benedetto are wonderful parents. And when is your new bambino due?"

"I'm only sixteen weeks, so there's plenty of time yet." Plenty of time for what? What am I trying to say? "I hope you'll be able to visit again when he or she arrives." We both gasped, my words surprising me as much as her. I looked into eyes so exactly like mine it was like gazing in a mirror, seeing at their edges the moisture I felt pooling behind mine.

"I would like that very much, cara mia."

It felt perfectly natural to find that the idea appealed to me too. Suddenly everything she'd told me about the reasons why she'd left all those years ago flashed through my mind and I realised I understood it. Mother to mother, I identified completely with her feeling that what she did was the best thing for her children and I finally acknowledged to myself that she had no way to know how our father would react.

I forgive her.

"I'd like that too...mama." There was a sudden stillness in the room and I realised everyone had heard my comment - and what I'd called her. I kept my eyes on her, though, and knew by the softening of her face and the slow tear finding its way down her cheek that she understood perfectly what my words really meant.

"Cara..." Next thing I knew we had our arms around each other and she was whispering "Ti amo, mia cara figlia. Grazie, grazie mille."

Hours later, at home, I was brushing my teeth while Ben checked on the twins. As I rinsed and spat he strolled in and wound his arms around my waist, pulling me back to rest against his chest as I straightened and looked at our reflections in the mirror.

"I'm so proud of you."

My eyes widened. "What did I do?"

"You forgave her."

"I did, didn't I? I'm still having a little trouble believing I did that, if I'm honest." I rested my hands over his as they rubbed gently over my burgeoning belly.

Slowly, he turned me within the circle of his arms and looked down at me with so much love my heart felt it would burst right out of my body. "How did I come to be so lucky as to have you marry me?"

"Well," I told him, plucking at his shirt buttons. "First off, you're really hot, so there's that; second off, you said yes when I asked you in front of all those people; and third..."

"And third?" He raised his brow and smiled, dimples twinkling at me seductively. I pulled his shirt tails from his trousers and ran my fingers lightly through the smattering of chest hair in front of me.

"And third..." I pressed a soft kiss to the chest hair then raised my eyes to his. "You made me love you so much and ruined me for any other man, which I'm sure was your wicked plan all along."

His smile set my pulse racing. "It was indeed, my kooky queen. I was absolutely determined no other man could have you."

"Now why on earth would I want any other man?" He picked me up, making me squeal in surprise; I flipped off the bathroom light as he carried me to our bed, dropping me gently in the middle as he removed his shirt then lay over me, resting his weight on his arms and avoiding my abdomen. "I just want you forever, Cumbers."

"Forever isn't long enough for me," he murmured, quoting the song I had written for our wedding.

I had no choice then, really; I just had to kiss him. Over and over and over and over and...well, you know.

\---

Four days after that everyone was at our house and my mother had made her peace with nonna as well as meeting Tim and Wanda. After a hearty meal Tim asked me to sing.

"This is just new," I told them, plucking my guitar strings nervously, "So it's still a little rough, but...here goes."

 

We like the wind under our wings, you and I

We stay on the ground too long, we get that urge to fly

And it seems that the grass would be more green

In any other place, with any change of scene

Here is the love we long for, open the secret door

It will take us in

And sweep us off our feet again

 

There's no ghost from the past that we can't shake

Have a little faith in us

There's no history that we can't re-make

Have a little faith in us

There's no ghost from the past that we can't shake

Have a little faith in us

There's no destiny that we can't create

Have a little faith in us

For all we know the best is yet to come

 

And we can climb that mountain and go

Where this love has never gone before

And in our wildest heart of hearts we will know

That we have been reborn

 

Oh, there's no ghost from the past that we can't shake

Have a little faith in us

There's no history that we can't remake

Have a little faith in us

Oh, there's no ghost from the past that we can't shake

Have a little faith in us

There's no destiny that we can't create

Have a little faith in us

For all we know the best is yet to come.


	38. The Big O

Some months later

"I can't take it any longer."

"Cara..."

"For God's sake, get this baby out of me before I burst."

"Sweetheart..."

"I will, Ben, I swear. I'll re-enact the Mr Creosote scene from 'The Meaning of Life' and simply burst, and all my innards will go flying around the room. Your child will shoot across the floor and land in a pot of nonna's pasta sauce."

"Darling, I..."

I grabbed his forearms, looking into his face with as much determination as I could muster. "I'm serious, Benedict. Get. This. Child. Out. Of. Me." 

At almost two weeks overdue, I had had enough. More than enough. So much more than enough there were no words to describe how much more than enough I'd had. Why the hell hasn't anyone come up with a word for this yet?

"You have to keep calm, sweetheart..."

"Don't tell me to be calm! You know perfectly well telling me to keep calm has the opposite effect."

"Cara..." Even Ben's long arms can't reach completely around me now with this enormous lump on my front, though he makes the effort, knowing it will have a soothing effect on me. Which it does. He always manages to calm my crazies, bless him.

"I'm sorry, darling, I'm just so freaking...full. My lungs are so squished by baby I can't take a deep breath, my insides are sure to be black and blue from all the kicking, I haven't seen my feet in weeks – which is probably just as well, as I'm pretty sure my ankles are the size of houses - and I swear I have to pee every five minutes. I don't know how much more of this I can stand."

He holds my head to his chest, kissing the top of it and making soft murmuring sounds that coax a sigh out of me. "I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable, my kooky queen; I wish I could help you."

"I know." I try to burrow closer to his warmth but only get frustrated again at the huge barrier between us. "Aren't there some things that are supposed to help bring on labour? At this stage I'm willing to try anything."

"I thought most of them were old wives' tales."

I draw my head back to look him in the face. "Anything, Benedict."

He gets the message. "All right, love, I'm on it."

When I let him go he gets out his phone, thumbs busy typing up the search criteria. I waddle over to the sofa and lower myself down, relieved to be off my feet for a bit.

"Nine natural ways to induce labour?"

Natural ways. Yes. It's a start. "Tell me," I demand.

"Exercise," is the first suggestion he offers. "'It can be anything from a long walk to stair climbing. Gravity may help your baby descend farther into the birth canal and dilate your cervix through simple pressure. Even if this method doesn't work, it's a great way to relieve stress and keep your body strong for the task ahead.'"

"Wow, they sound really confident about that one, don't they?" From the look Ben throws me, I know he's gotten my sarcasm. "You're already having to push me up the stairs, so that one's a non-starter. What's next?"

He scrolls. "Acupuncture or acupressure?" While he reads it I think about little needles all over me. "Acupuncture can stimulate the release of oxytocin in the body...hmm...no significant differences in the outcome..." Well, so much for that. "'Acupressure...the key is beginning the practice early and often.'"

"We missed the boat on that one," I point out unnecessarily.

Ben nods. "Next time," he says. I snort. Yeah, like I'm going to go through this again. At the sound, he gives me his sweetest smile and I start to melt. Maybe I could go for number four after all...a wallop in my belly makes me grunt and shift uncomfortably and my mind is changed again. Yeah, keep dreaming Cumberbatch; three's a perfectly good number.

"Spicy food? A bumpy car ride?"

"Really? I could go some vindaloo."

"They don't seem to think the bumpy car ride actually does much, and the last time we had Indian food it gave you heartburn all night," he reminds me.

Damn.

"Evening primrose oil is next on the list," he tells me. "There's little proof it causes labour, but it can prime and soften the cervix, apparently."

"Hmphf."

"Drinking red raspberry leaf tea, especially in combination with the evening primrose oil, can tone the uterus and help organise contractions into a regular pattern."

"I've got to get to the damn contractions part first! Honestly, is there nothing on that list that is actually useful?" Yes, I think it's safe to say my patience is wearing just a little thin.

Ben blushed as he read out the next idea. "Membrane stripping...God, that sounds awful...but that's something the doctor does..." He swallowed heavily as he continued reading.

"What else is there?"

"Um..."

Intrigued, I looked closer at his face. It was definitely getting even redder and he seemed to have a nervous blink in his right eye.

"What?" I demand.

"Well, it's...um...there's one more thing they suggest..."

The more uncomfortable he looks, the more intrigued I become. "Spill the beans, Cumbers."

Instead of reading it aloud, he comes to sit beside me and shows me the screen. "Oh!" Initially shocked, I get over it pretty fast and am actually inclined to laugh. "So the thing that could help is also the thing that got us in this predicament in the first place," I grin.

"Poetic justice," Ben winks.

"Karma's not such a bitch after all," I add, and at that we both crack up laughing. When we stop, Ben puts an arm around my shoulders and I turn into him, resting my head against his chest.

"They're pretty specific about the...ah...outcome," he points out, and I read the paragraph in full then laugh again at his choice of words.

"Cara!" He's realised what I'm laughing about.

"What?" I pretend innocence and he only shakes his head at me. Loving how coy he gets when I tease about this – I think he fears my convent education has finally worn off – I point to the screen and say, "We've never had a problem with this bit." He blushes so beautifully, those chiselled cheekbones a deep rose shade. Of course it only encourages me to tease him further. "Multiple times," I add.

"Cara!"

God, he's adorable.

I send up a quick prayer in thankfulness that the twins are with Maria and Tony today, then put my hand behind his head and draw his face down to mine, brushing my lips gently over his in a barely-there kiss, thrilling when I hear his soft intake of breath. Moving to his jaw, I place warm, open-mouth kisses from chin to ear on both sides, encouraged when his eyes close and he breathes my name on a soft sigh. Finally, I return to his lips; as soon as I lay mine over his, he lifts my chin to change the angle and deepens the kiss, intoxicating me until every single coherent thought has left my brain and my fingers have caused havoc in his short curls. Eventually we draw apart, though I whimper at the loss.

"Bedroom" he says, reaching for the bottom of my blouse.

"Oh God; stairs." I start working on his shirt buttons.

We're both silent for a moment, then say at the same time, "Guest room."

After another kiss that leaves me floating and limbless, he stands and lifts me into his arms, carrying me to the room down the hall and placing me tenderly in the middle of the bed that's always made up in case of overnight visitors. As he helps divest me of my clothing, he presses a kiss to each inch of skin revealed, turning me into a puddle of desire and need.

"Hurry, Cumbers, I need you naked." Sitting up being an effort of gigantic proportions, I merely lay there and watch him remove each garment, my eyes devouring him.

Bloody hell! He's all man. Oh God, I think I'm drooling.

Once he joins me on the bed it takes us a few minutes to work out the logistics, but then there's only moaning and sighs and loving until we reach the outcome the article suggested. Twice.

Sated, we cuddle.

"Do you think it will work?" I ask, kissing the hollow where his neck meets his collarbone.

"If it doesn't, I'm happy to try again," his deep voice replies. "And again, and again..."

Me too, Cumbers, me too.


	39. Our Beautiful Rose

God, she's beautiful.

"She's so beautiful." Ben's whispered echo of my own thoughts brought a smile to my face and I glanced from our newborn daughter over my shoulder to his dearly familiar face. Arms that are my strength and my shelter wrapped gently around me, pulling me back against his torso. Warm breath tickled my neck and ear, making me wriggle slightly. "We really have to think of a name for her," he murmured.

I pondered for a moment, then a surge of sass made me want to tease him. "What about Benedicta? Or Benedetta? Benita? They're the feminine versions of your name."

He snorted and I giggled. "Good lord, no – one of us having this mouthful is bad enough. I've always thought my name sounds like a fart in a bath and I don't wish that on our daughter." Gazing down at her again, his next words were inspirational. "She makes me think of a beautiful flower, all pink and pretty and smelling so sweet."

"Rosabella?" I suggested.

"Rosabella. That's perfect," Ben whispered. "Rosie for short."

"Rosie it is," I smiled. "It suits her."

We stayed there for another few minutes, watching long lashes flutter over soft, round cheeks flushed with sleep, noting the slight rise and fall of her chest, listening to the hedgehog-like noises she made occasionally. She's only been in our lives for a week and already we're her devoted slaves.

"Come to bed, my love," Ben pressed warm lips to my forehead and tugged me gently the few feet from the bassinet to our own bed, crisp sheets inviting me into its downy welcome as my energy reserves crept perilously close to empty.

Mmm, bed, yes. Bed is good. Sleep is gooder. Gooderer? Hmphf.

Ben lowered me to the edge of the bed and bent to remove my shoes and clothes. Once my nightie was on I summoned my last reserves to visit the ensuite, then climbed thankfully under the covers to be immediately scooped into his embrace. My head rested on his shoulder, my hand over his firm stomach as I snuggled into him, closing my eyes to inhale the scent that was as familiar and necessary as the air I breathe.

\---

"Here, nonna."

"Grazie, cara mia."

I passed her the antique silver earrings and watched as she bent over Antonella's sitting form to attach them to her lobes. Ella looks exquisite in her white lace and silk bridal gown, her cheeks blushing, eyes sparkling. Once the earrings are in place, her mother Constanza moved forward with the veil, making a big fuss of placing it just so. It covers her face and flows down her back almost to the floor, held on her head by a small tiara that twinkles in the light from the chandelier overhead. Nonna stepped back to my side, giving me a smile and patting my hand. I imagine she's remembering her own wedding day more than sixty years before, she and nonno so young and full of hope for the life ahead of them. Tears sat behind my eyes and I blinked them back. Not happening. Not today.

Leaving the bride with her mother and sister, a tight feeling of fullness had me heading down to the room where the ceremony would be held, searching through the crowd for Ben's head. Before I found it, though, I heard the unmistakeable demanding squall of a baby in search of nourishment and honed in on that sound, all the while trying to unobtrusively press my arms against my breasts to hold back the let-down reflex triggered by Rosie's cry. What I didn't need was big wet patches on the front of my dress – they wouldn't go down too well in the family photos.

"Oh darling, thank goodness." Looking very relieved, Ben handed over Rosie as he moved Lizzie's bunny off the spot he'd reserved for me next to him and I shuffled in as quickly and quietly as I could while undoing buttons. Once Rosie was latched and feeding hungrily, I gave a sigh and settled more comfortably in my seat.

"Mama, Rosie hungry," my elder daughter informed me with a glee I was sure every guest could hear.

"She certainly is sweetheart, but remember what daddy told you about a quiet church voice? Can you try to use that please?" Ben and I exchanged an eye-roll and a small grin. Like me, Lizzie gets louder when she's excited, and as today is not only her first family wedding but also an occasion that warranted a brand new pretty pink dress, she is almost off her face. Alex, of course, is pretending to be bored by the whole process, when in fact his eyes are almost as big as saucers. "Have these two been behaving?" I whispered quietly to Ben.

"They're your children, my kooky queen – what do you think?"

I gave him my cheesiest grin and murmured, "So, practically perfect in every way, then," and waited for his laugh. When it rumbled through his chest and his shoulders shook, my grin widened. He didn't say a word, just turned and dipped his head to press on me a kiss so potent my thoughts turned positively carnal and I said a quick Hail Mary to myself to atone for the sinful ideas I was having.

Oh shit, I can't be thinking these things in a church! Or swearing either! Oh, good Lord.

As if he could read my mind, Ben whispered, "Behave yourself, wench," and I almost swallowed my tongue in surprise, my cheeks warming. Luckily, I was saved from responding by Rosie finishing and I buried my burning face in her swaddled form as I held her on my shoulder for a burp. Oh hell, if he's reading my mind now, I'm in deep trouble.

Just then an usher escorted nonna to her seat in the row in front of us. Mama turned to give me a smile from her spot at the end of the row and Marco and Tony came down the aisle to take their places at the front. Ben told the twins the ceremony would start soon and reminded them to keep quiet. Unable to prevent a small snort of scepticism from escaping, I caught a glare from my husband and gave him back the best innocent face I could muster. He merely shook his head at me, his eyes gleaming with amusement and resignation.

God, I love that man.

A few minutes later we rose for the bride's entrance.

\---

Walk in the front door, drop my keys

Kick my shoes off and go

Straight into your arms; keep me safe

And I don't feel like myself

I've been waiting to go

Straight into your arms; keep me safe

 

I've been gone since yesterday

And I fell straight, straight into your arms

But it only takes one day

And I run straight, straight into your arms

Straight into your arms

Straight into your arms, straight into your arms

 

You keep me on track

I can't sleep 'til you come back home to me

Into my arms, darling

So let's make the best of what we have

Time is precious; it won't last

I'll see you when I get back

 

I've been gone since yesterday

And I fell straight, straight into your arms

But it only takes one day

And I run straight, straight into your arms

Straight into your arms

Straight into your arms, straight into your arms

 

And I've been waiting, I'm waiting

My heart is calling, it's calling

 

I've been gone since yesterday

And I fell straight, straight into your arms

But it only takes one day

And I run straight, straight into your arms

Straight into your arms

I've been gone since yesterday

And I fell straight, straight into your arms

But it only takes one day

And I run straight, straight into your arms

Straight into your arms, straight into your arms

 

"That was Cara de Luca at number ten on the charts with 'Straight Into Your Arms' and you're with 2GB Radio, where it's nearing the hour..."

Ben turned the dial off. "Darling, you're up to number ten already – I think you've got another hit on your hands."

I crossed the index and middle fingers of both hands, thankful he was the one driving. "Don't jinx me, Cumbers." He just gave me a sidelong smile and took my right hand, lifting it to kiss my crossed fingers. I, meanwhile, turned to look over my shoulder to our three children, relieved they were all still sleeping peacefully in the back seat. "We can't have any more children," I said as I turned to the front again, "We can't fit any more in this car when we have nonna with us as well."

"Well, that's easily fixed," he grinned, "We'll just get a bigger car to haul our brood around in." I laughed and shook my head, thinking to myself that a fourth child would round out the numbers – being one of three, I knew how it could be an awkward number, especially if two ganged up against the third. "I thought Italian mamas wanted tons of bambinos to fuss over?" he added, grinning cheekily and making me laugh again.

"One more would be nice, but not for a while," I tell him, resisting his jibe.

"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart, you just say the word and I'll knock you up again."

"Ben!" I blushed furiously as he tried to contain his roar of laughter, for fear of waking our passengers. "You're incorrigible!" I muttered as his shoulders continued to shake with mirth, but that only encouraged him. When he reached again for my hand I tried to pull it back but he wouldn't let me, taking it firmly to his mouth and kissing it so sweetly and tenderly I instantly melted.

Dammit, Cumbers, you're too darned adorable; it's so not fair.

Five minutes later we arrived at Tony and Maria's house. My mother – who had been in the UK for Rosie's birth and Marco's wedding - was heading back to Rome tomorrow and we were throwing her a farewell lunch. She and Tony appeared beside the car as we unbuckled the twins, both of whom woke as soon as they heard excited voices around them, Lizzie immediately reaching for her doting nonna. As they headed inside with mama taking Alex by the hand as well, Tony gathered the food I'd prepared and I scooped up Rosie while Ben took charge of the nappy bag and baby paraphernalia we couldn't travel without. Once indoors we were immediately surrounded by the loud, loving hubbub of my family and I gave a sigh of contentment.

"Look how much she's grown already!" Maria exclaimed over Rosie as she welcomed us in.

"Careful Tony, Maria's getting clucky," I called to my brother, grinning. He groaned in response, but I knew they would both be happy to add another to the four they already had.

"When are you two going to give me more nipote?" Mama's question was directed at Marco and Ella, who both blushed and looked down at the floor.

"Mama, we've only been married a month!" Marco protested, and we all laughed. Ben caught my eye and winked and I knew he was thinking of our conversation in the car. I winked back, smiling.

For the next three hours we did what our family does so well – we ate, we talked, we ate some more, we laughed and then we ate dessert. The children ran around the house together and clambered over the laps of whichever adult was nearby. Rosie, who was a contented and placid baby, fed hungrily before being happily passed around for cuddles. Ben, attentive as always, made sure I had whatever I needed on hand even while he was enjoying guy talk with my brothers.

Looking around as I sipped on my cup of tea, I felt a huge tug at my heart. It wasn't painful or worrisome; I recognised it immediately and allowed a smile to warm my features.

This is true happiness. There is so much love in this room and I feel so blessed to be a part of it.

"Are you alright, my love?" Ben had come to crouch beside my perch on the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as he bent his long limbs.

"Yes," I assured him, "Never better."

And I meant it.


	40. Epilogue

Placing my guitar down, I stood centre stage and looked out at the near-capacity crowd. I may never perform at Wembley Stadium, but filling almost twenty thousand seats at The O2 was something to be proud of.

"Thank you so much. You've been an amazing audience and I couldn't be more grateful." The applause began to die down. "Thank you." Once it was relatively quiet I continued. "We have just a couple more songs for you tonight, the first of which I would like to dedicate to my family, who are here tonight and have always given me their unfailing love and support." Looking down, I saw my family in the front row - my mother and her husband, both old and becoming frail; my brothers with their wives and teenaged children; Wanda, still as feisty and energetic as always; Alex and his girlfriend Sarah; Lizzie, Rosie and Christopher, and of course my Ben. "Of course, these guys behind me are a very important part of my family too." I turned and waved an arm to indicate Rick, Marcus, Paul, Joel and Ellie, joining in the applause for them. "And for all of you I am equally grateful," I added to the huge crowd. "Without every single one of you, I wouldn't be everything I am; I wouldn't be here before you now. Grazie mille, ti amo."

I moved to the piano as the applause died down, then at a nod from me, Marcus led us into the opening bars.

 

A thousand dreams you gave to me

You held me high, you held me high

And all those years you guided me

So I could find my way

How long your love has sheltered me

You held me high, you held me high

A harbour holding back the sea

So I could find my way

 

As I sang I couldn't help but think back over the years, so many of them and yet they seem to have passed by in a blur. Our four beautiful children are nearing adulthood, eager to forge their places in the world, to make their own mark – hopefully without being overshadowed by either of their parents. I recalled the night my mother came back into my life and thanked God for the courage she found to take that first step, for without it I would have missed the close, loving relationship with her I've come to cherish. Sadly, we've lost nonna and Tim, but death is as much a part of life as birth, and they live on in our hearts and memories.

The applause for the song gives me time to take a deep breath and steady myself.

"You know...long before I released my first album, I was singing in a pub in Camden. One night, as we took a break, this guy came up and offered to buy me a coffee. He was incredibly hot, I thought, with gorgeous eyes and an amazing smile. He's still just as hot today, in my opinion – and I think there are one or two others who agree with me." There was laughter and a few catcalls; they knew who I was talking about. "Anyway, tomorrow we're celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary." Though my whole family smiled up at me, I was mainly concentrating on just his smile. It was, and always had been, my beacon, the light in my darkness, the signal I was home. "Sweetheart, thank you for coming into my life that night, thank you for saying 'yes' when I beat you to the punch, thank you for the gift of our wonderful children; but mostly, thank you for loving me and for making the past twenty years the happiest of my life. I can't wait for our next twenty. Ti amerò in eterno."

All lights went out bar the spotlight over me as the opening chords played; I wrapped both hands around the microphone on the stand before me and closed my eyes, concentrating on Ben, singing to and for him and only him, as my focus and my world narrowed to just the two of us. It wasn't one of my songs, but it expressed beautifully exactly what I wanted to say.

 

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave

To the dark and the endless skies, my love

To the dark and the endless skies

 

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth

I felt the earth move in my hand

Like the trembling heart of a captive bird

That was there at my command, my love

That was there at my command, my love

 

And the first time ever I lay with you

I felt your heart so close to mine

And I knew our joy would fill the earth

And last till the end of time, my love

And it would last till the end of time, my love

The first time ever I saw your face

 

I doubt anyone heard my final thanks, as a whisper was all I could manage. By the time I took my final bow and thanked my band to walk off-stage, he was there, waiting for me in the wings, as if he knew I needed him at that precise moment. And he did know; he knew me as well as, if not better than, I knew myself. He opened his arms and I ran straight into them; they were, after all, where I wanted to be, where I belonged.

"I love you so much, Bootylicious Cumberbum."

He laughed, as I knew he would, and my ovaries flipped as always at the sight of his dimples and twinkling eyes. "I love you more, my kooky queen."

No, my love, that's simply not possible.


End file.
